


Don't Tap On The Glass

by sburbanite



Series: Don't Tap on the Glass [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically it's Dave going oh shit where's my dick, Drunk Sex, Eventual Romance, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Meteorstuck, Minor Body Horror, Nobody Dies, Pale Porn, Sadstuck, Species Swap, Troll Transformation, Trollstuck, Turned out fluffier than intended, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, romantic sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dave makes two terrible mistakes in the space of 24 hours, he finds himself dealing with them in a body that's not his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK - major angst alert, here. There will be fluff eventually but it is a long, long way off.

Dave wakes with the worst headache he's ever experienced, and it takes him a few seconds to realize where he is. His throbbing head is immediately forgotten when that information penetrates the hangover fuzz: he's in Karkat's room, in Karkat's bed, and both of them are naked. Dave's thighs are practically welded together with something disturbingly sticky and bright-goddamn-red. His next thought is simply 'oh shit'. He feels sick, mostly from the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed last night, but also from the knowledge that he probably just lost his virginity with his best (male) friend in a drunken haze, and he doesn't remember diddly-fuck. Karkat is facing the wall, still snoring loudly, so Dave slips out of the bed as gently as he can. It's the coward's way out, he thinks as he dresses hurriedly, but he's not up for having a earnest discussion about whatever just happened with his head feeling like someone turned it inside out and used it as an ashtray. Time to abscond at the speed of sound; he can deal with the Karkat situation later. Much later. Maybe after they've reached the new session and been pummeled into oblivion by one of the team of gigantic assholes that infest it. Post mortem might be a good time to talk about accidental gay sex with Karkat. 

Wandering aimlessly through the meteor, Dave heads for the less inhabited areas in the hope that no-one will try to talk to him. Hiding in the dark, creepy labs seems like a grade-A plan right now. As he walks, he tries to remember what the fuck happened yesterday, how he torpedoed his life and his only decent friendship in the space of 24 hours. So far, being 16 sucks a huge pile of ass. 

Dave's birthdays have never been happy occasions. More often than not Bro forgot them entirely, leaving him unable to tell if he was supposed to be too cool and grown up for cake and candles, or if Bro was simply fucking with him. Sometimes little things would show up unannounced; a new rucksack, some film for his camera, a preserved animal in a jar. Those birthdays were better, but still made him feel hollow jealousy for the parties and gifts lavished on his friends. One year Rose had gotten a fucking pony, for chrissakes, and had complained non-stop about the infantilising implications of her mother buying her, at age twelve, the pony she had asked for at age six. Dave can only remember one truly happy birthday; his tenth, when Bro had shown him how to use his old decks and then lovingly placed them into Dave's room afterward. It was the only time he remembers seeing Bro smile. 

Yesterday had been no exception to the shitty birthday pattern, even though Rose, Kanaya and Karkat had tried to make it one. There had been cake and candles and thoughtful little gifts and everyone had expected him to be happy and grateful and he'd tried goddamn it, he really had. Although he forced himself to make stupid jokes and maybe even smile a little, Karkat's frown had let him know that he was doing a sub-par job of hiding the hollow numbness inside him. 

The simple truth was that it had been difficult to pretend to have a happy 16th birthday when Dave knew that in just over four months he'd probably be dead. He'd have to fight and kill and time-travel again, and the shake in his hands when he thought of a sword clasped between them made it clear that he wasn't ready. He'd never be ready. Being sixteen didn't mean shit. He was still as scared as he'd been at thirteen. He couldn't save anyone. 

So, when he'd excused himself in the middle of one of Rose's silly party games and gone to the alchemiter to dial up some of the Lalonde Estate's finest frankenwine, he hadn't been amazed when no-one had followed him. They could all guess what was wrong, most likely, but equally they knew there was nothing they could do. All of them had tried, over the past almost-three years, to get him to open up about what was eating away at him. The only person who'd gotten close to the truth of things was Karkat, and Dave could practically feel the frustration rolling off the little troll every time he ollied outie mid-conversation in order to avoid discussing why he seemed so fucking miserable these days. It had surprised him, then, when a nubby head had popped around the door of the alchemy room mid-way through his first bottle. 

Karkat had been frowning again, the annoyed expression reserved exclusively for times when Dave was being an inscrutable ass. For some reason, it had seemed incredibly funny. Dave remembers laughing until tears ran down his face at Karkat's loud, indignant inquiries as to what the fuck he thought he was doing. He'd meant to respond with something smooth, something glib and funny and just a little bit irritating - the signature Strider blend. But nothing had come out, and suddenly the tears weren't tears of laughter and Karkat had an arm wrapped around him and words were falling out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

Dave vaguely remembers telling Karkat that he doesn't want to die but it's going to happen anyway; that he's going to fuck everything up and let them all down because he can't even hold a sword without shaking. That birthdays are bullshit because all of the cake in the world won't make up for the time he turned 11 and Bro decided he was old enough to strife with real weapons. A dislocated shoulder and months of nightmares were his presents that year. 

Dave remembers Karkat hugging him, remembers his face going slack with shock and sympathy. He remembers Karkat stroking his hair. It had felt so good to be held like that. To be cradled in the warm arms of someone who cared about him. 

After he'd calmed down, Dave had reluctantly pulled himself away from Karkat and had told the troll that this wasn't the Dave Strider Emotion Hour; if Karkat wanted to stay he had to drink too. Karkat had wrinkled his nose at the idea, but had relented when Dave had told him that it was a human sixteenth birthday custom to get hammered with your best friend. Dave is pretty sure that it was the 'best friend' part that had persuaded Karkat to pick up the bottle. 

After that, Dave's memories start to fragment. He remembers bits and pieces: calling Karkat a lightweight after he starts swaying during his fourth swig, Karkat drinking as much as he can in a single gulp with a middle finger raised, laughing as they both tried to recite their respective alphabets backward, Dave telling Karkat he's the best friend he's ever had. 

Telling him it isn't fair, he's so fucking _hot_ , why did he have to be a guy? 

Leaning in to kiss him sloppily and feeling the rumble of pleasure in Karkat's chest. 

Feeling really, really good as Karkat pushes a rough, alien tongue into his mouth. 

Following Karkat as he stumbles back to his room, laughing as he tells Dave jokingly to fuck off and sleep in his own goddamn bed. 

Karkat pulling him down onto the mattress. 

Giggling like an idiot as his shades get caught when his shirt is pulled over his head. 

Warmth and softness and comfort and sweat and pleasure and something wrapping around his dick and squeezing just fucking _right_. 

Dave guesses this means all of those gay feelings he's been ignoring are probably genuine. It's one thing to pass off staring at Karkat's lips while he's talking and fantasizing about kissing them, and maybe even jerking off to the thought of Karkat's legs wrapped around his waist as the influence of raging teenage hormones. It's another thing to actually have the sex. Dave is pretty sure there's nothing 'no homo' about humping another dude until he comes. 

Of course, it would have been too much to ask for him to have dealt with said feelings like a goddamned adult, maybe talk to someone about them instead of pushing them under the mental rug with all of the smuppets and swords that haunt his dreams. Instead, Dave got his best friend drunk and fucked him. He congratulates himself on maxing out his maturity Echeladder by stopping and banging his head against the nearest wall, before the stabbing pain engulfing his brain reminds him that doing so makes a hangover approximately one zillion times worse. 

Maybe, if he's lucky, Karkat won't remember that anything happened. Dave berates himself for how skeevy that sounds, but at the same time he doesn't give a shit because he wants more than anything for it to be true. Trolls are pretty similar to humans, so it's a fair assumption that they have wet dreams too. It wouldn't be too much to hope that Karkat might pass off all the fumbling in the darkness as the effect of the alcohol on his troll physiology. The idea is a tempting way out of the awkward-zone, and Dave feels a little better for it. That is, until he remembers he isn't wearing his shades. The one time they would have actually been useful to keep the burning light away from his aching head, and they're somewhere on Karkat's floor. A perfect little reminder of last night's huge mistake. 

Running a hand through his hair, Dave doesn't think he could possibly feel like more of a fuck-up until he notices he is well and truly lost. None of these corridors look familiar, and even the little colored-chalk signs that Terezi uses to orient herself have disappeared. This is the ass end if fuck-knows-where, population: one big, gay idiot. He groans, listening to the sound carry along the tunnels. No-one can hear him down here so he yells his frustration in torrents of swearwords, until he hears a trace of Karkat’s rage in his own voice and chokes on the final expletive. 

The labs down here are huge, echoing caverns, filled with tanks and strange equipment. Dave has always had an interest in dead things in jars, and these behemoths are fascinating enough to distract him from his self-loathing for a few minutes. One looms large above him, a creature with spines and scales and the abdomen of a giant spider. The imps of the trolls’ session must have been nightmare fuel, Dave muses, because this thing is one ugly motherfucker. The other tanks contain similar hybrids, different combinations of beloved lusii mangled beyond all recognition. Amongst the dragon-wings and centaur-hooves, Dave spots a smaller cylinder of glass. The goo inside it is murky green, but the shadow at the centre looks humanoid. He would call it human, were it not for the shape of curving horns arching from its forehead. The thing looks like a troll. 

Dave inches closer to the tank, wondering what Kanaya would think of his discovery. If there’s one troll, there could be more. There could be a way to make _more_ trolls. Dave knows that she carries the burden of continuing her race in the same way he feels responsible for keeping his friends alive. He moves closer, tries to see into the clouded liquid. The thing looks like it’s asleep, maybe even dreaming. He swears he sees its hand twitch. Dave nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s Karkat, of course it’s Karkat, but that whole issue is a minefield of ‘nope’ sprinkled with liberal helpings of ‘oh hell no’ for good measure, so Dave ignores the guilt sitting bitterly in his stomach and instead focuses on the thing in front of him. This time he’s sure he saw one of those dimly-visible claws moving. 

Desperate to distract himself from the inevitable implosion of his friendship with Karkat, Dave leans forward and does something very, very stupid. With the back of one knuckle, he raps sharply on the glass of the tank, just once. Once is all it takes for the hairline crack by his left sneaker to spread and grow, crawling like lightning over the surface of the glass. By the time that Dave realizes what’s about to happen, green liquid _explodes_ toward him. The torrent hits him in the stomach with several tons of pressure, knocking him squarely onto his ass. Now, with the flow hitting his chest, he can withstand it more easily. He manages to keep his face largely free, but some still gets into his nose and mouth, burning as it does so. It tastes disgusting. 

Eventually, the tide of liquid slows, and Dave can get a good look at the thing that caused this mess. The thing is a grey heap in the bottom of the tank, glistening sickly with green residue. He can’t tell if it’s moving. When he stands, his feet feel unsteady on the slick floor. As soon as he tries to take a step, to see what the fuck was in the tank, his sneakers promptly fly out from under him. Dave’s head hits the floor, and he feels his consciousness shut down as if he’d flicked his power-switch. 

Darkness surrounds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to another fic that I've started because I can't get this shit out of my brain unless I write it down! 
> 
> I know where it's going and I promise I haven't abandoned any of my other things - sorry for not updating some of them for a while.
> 
> I hope y'all don't think I'm asleep at the fanfic wheel over here...


	2. Chapter 2

The universe seems to enjoy kicking him when he's down, Dave thinks as he levers himself upright. The right side of his head hurts like someone drove a railroad spike through it. He's starting to hate waking up; maybe just sleeping forever would be easier. Being stuck to the floor by tacky green goop is marginally less painful than waking up next to a naked Karkat, because nope, nope, nope, he’s still not ready to think about that. Eugh, he practically has to peel himself off the floor. Dave snorts with hollow laughter when he realizes how much this looks like a scene from Ghostbusters. He got himself thoroughly slimed, and he bets Egbert would laugh his big blue windsock off if he could see this. 

The floor is no longer slippery; instead, it sucks wetly at his sneakers and clothes at he gets to his feet. Trying to resurrect his cool, Dave saunters causally over to the jagged rim of the tank. The troll-thing looks dead, lying limply on its side in a puddle of the liquid that once cradled it. He uncapchalogues his sword and pokes it cautiously, wincing as the blade slices into the skin of its shoulder. So. Fucking. Gross. Rust-colored blood oozes from the wound, and Dave feels the acid sting of vomit rising as he looks at it. He doubles over, eyes stinging as he loses his birthday lunch. He’s never been so glad that there’s no-one here to see him hurling at the sight of blood like a weak little kid. Bro would have kicked his ass. When he's finished, Dave wipes his mouth and immediately dry-heaves at the feel of the slime coating his sleeve. Holy shit, he thinks; if there ever was a time to take a fucking shower, it's now. 

It takes an hour of wandering, his soggy clothes sticking and chafing at his skin until it begins to burn, before Dave finds some brightly coloured chicken-scratch breaking the monotony of the grey corridor wall. Terezi’s signs are illegible to people who can actually see, but Dave doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’s still lost because all he wants right now is a bathroom. Following the trail of chalk breadcrumbs until he finds one, he stumbles into the shower unit without even undressing. Water, blessed and clean, washes over him. Damn, it feels good. Stripping his sodden clothes, he turns the spray up to the maximum and allows himself to relax into the warmth. After a few minutes, he finally feels human again. He nearly chokes in the irony of that thought when he notices that swathes of his skin have turned a dark, inhuman grey. 

Dave's mind fills with panic, with the sound of his blood roaring in his ears and his heart beating frantically. His internal clock shudders to a halt as he notices the yellow tint spreading from the beds of his nails, as he reaches a hand to the right side of his head and feels a hard spike emerging painfully from his scalp. When he glances downward, Dave’s mind dissolves into a single incoherent stream of 'FUUUUUUUUCK', and he must have been screaming it out loud, because suddenly the door is slamming open and he’s no longer alone. Dave wonders what the fuck he did to deserve this apocalyptic avalanche of bullshit, because it just had to be _Karkat_ staring down at him with horrified eyes, there’s no fucking way that the universe would let it be anyone else. 

Dave tries to breathe, tries to stop screaming, tries desperately not to be slumped naked in the shower with Karkat’s stare boring straight into his soul. He fails. When Karkat finally moves, Dave is amazed at the calm with which he reaches for the shower control and switches off the water. His voice is carefully steady when he speaks. 

“What the fuck, Dave?” 

Dave can’t cope with this, he can’t deal with the hurt and care and concern in Karkat’s eyes. Striders don’t do emotions, they push it all down and they sure as hell don’t cry, ever, but there’s no way to pretend he’s fine and everything’s cool when his body is betraying him in every possible way. To his credit, he gives it a damn good try. 

“Sup, man.” He croaks out. 

Karkat snarls, his face contorting with hurt and fury as he raises a hand and slaps Dave across the face, hard. 

“Don’t you dare fucking “Sup” at me, Strider, or so help me I will…” Karkat growls with frustration, by far the most aggressive sound Dave has ever heard him make. “I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do, but you won’t fucking like it, OK!?” 

Karkat is panting with rage, and Dave doesn’t think he could possibly feel any worse. Tears are rolling unacknowledged down his face because, fuck, there’s no way he can handle crying like a baby in front of Karkat right now. Dave reaches out desperately toward his friend, panicking at the thought that Karkat might just walk away and leave him here. Faced with the clutching fear that he’ll be left alone and terrified and hurting _all over again_ , Dave does the only thing he can think of. Luckily, it’s also the right thing to do. 

“I’m sorry, man, I’m so fucking sorry, OK? Please, just don’t leave. I…I don’t know what’s happening to me, but it fucking _hurts_ , and I’m…” He swallows, choking on the words ‘I’m scared’, but he knows that Karkat can tell he’s freaking the fuck out. 

Karkat sighs heavily and tosses Dave a towel. 

“Cover yourself up, Strider. I don’t need to see that shit.” 

Dave does so, unable to stop himself from mentally adding the unsaid _‘again’_. Everything is fucked up, and he’s the stupid drunken asshole who's responsible. He knows that it’s only pity driving Karkat to help him to his feet, to support him as he walks unsteadily to Karkat’s room. It’s only two doors down from the bathroom, and Dave wonders if his guilty conscience subconsciously led him back here, or if it’s just another coincidental middle finger from Paradox Space. 

Karkat helps him over to the bed, lays him down with far more care than he deserves. Dave realises dimly that the sheets have been changed since he was last here. He feels another icy stab of guilt when Karkat settles himself awkwardly in his desk chair, deliberately avoiding looking at Dave. He has to ask, has to know. 

“Why are you helping me? I mean, after I was such a complete asshole to you?” 

Karkat shrugs, his face unusually blank. He looks as if he’s hollow to the core, and Dave wonders if that’s how his cool facade looks to everyone else. 

“Because I can’t not help you." Karkat looks broken, defeated. "It’s what I fucking do, apparently.” 

Dave curls into a ball, pulling the covers over him as he starts to shiver. He feels like he did the time he had stomach flu: hot and cold and sick and with a headache that feels like a sword to the temple. Bro hadn’t even noticed. Karkat, on the other hand, is frowning at him intently, his resolve not to look at Dave crumbling as he notices him begin to shake with poorly suppressed sobs. Karkat's eyes are full of pain. 

He sighs. “I’m going to get Rose. Whatever freaky bullshit is going on with you, it’s too fucking much for me to handle right now, all things considered.” The last part of that sentence is heavy with implication. Dave winces as if he’s been slapped again. 

“Please don’t.” Dave whispers, and he knows it’s cruel to ask Karkat to stay instead of getting help from someone less emotionally involved. He just can’t deal with being responsible for ruining another birthday, even though he knows that that’s stupid and childish. Rose doesn’t deserve this shit on her birthday. 

“Don’t want anyone else.” He murmurs, half to Karkat and half to himself. Before everything turned messy last night, Karkat had held him close. Dave doesn’t remember ever feeling so safe, even if it was partly due to being completely hammered. Karkat is the only person he wants, the only person who won’t judge and poke and prod at his emotions until he feels like he’s going to suffocate. 

Dave is surprised when he feels Karkat slip into the bed behind him and wrap an arm around him gently. This is bad, really bad, he’s in bed with Karkat again and he’s naked except for a towel, but at the same time his head aches and he just wants to sleep. He slips into unconsciousness slowly, with Karkat’s breath warm and comforting on the back of his neck. He's not sure if he hears Karkat mumbling something into his shoulder. 

Dave wakes up alone this time, but Karkat has merely retreated to his desk chair. He swivels around to face Dave when he hears him stirring, and practically flies across the room until he's on his knees, his face mere inches from Dave’s own. 

“Fuck.” 

Karkat mutters it under his breath. _Oh shit_ , Dave thinks as his blood turns to ice, something must really be wrong for _Karkat_ to be so quiet. 

“Karkat, man, what the fuck is wrong? Because your face suggests I’m in major shit.” 

Reaching for one of Dave’s hands, Karkat holds it in front of his face. It’s grey and the nails are yellow and wicked-sharp. It’s a troll hand. Dave flexes it, feels the way the claws press into the leathery skin of his palm. He swallows, trying to process the feeling of too many teeth in his mouth, and looks up at Karkat again. 

“So, I’m a troll now? Is that what’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost? I mean, we see ghosts all the time, but you know what I’m sayin’, man.” 

Karkat shakes his head slowly and pulls Dave’s entire arm from under the covers. Patches of pale, human skin are mixed in with the grey, covering the top of his arm completely. Places where the liquid didn’t touch him, he realizes. So, he’s not a troll, then. He’s just a fucking mess. Dave gets up, pulling the towel tight around him, and marches past Karkat to the bathroom. His legs and feet are a uniform grey, and he can see unfamiliar sinews moving beneath the skin. 

Locking the door this time, Dave removes the towel. His upper body is a patchwork of grey and white, a nipple on one side and nothing but smooth grey on the other. That doesn’t exactly have his attention, however, because _his dick is fucking gone_. He’s a goddamn eunuch, and holy shit, that isn’t the only thing that’s missing. At least he won’t have to worry about being kicked in the balls anymore, but being faced by a single slitted opening that runs from his crotch halfway up to where his belly-button _isn’t any more_ is hardly an improvement. Gingerly, he investigates it with his fingertips, trying not to poke himself with his claws. It turns out the edges of whatever it is are sensitive as fuck, soft touches sending tingles to something inside him. Dave is momentarily assaulted by the memory of whatever it was that Karkat had wrapped around his dearly departed dick. It had been…well, it’d been weird and alien…but it had definitely felt good. 

Dave is distracted from his investigation by the sight of movement in the mirror, and he can’t stop the “Holy fuck!” that flies from his lips when he spots his reflection. He looks like Two-Face, except that roughly three-quarters of his face is grey. Both eyes are yellow, grey irises replacing blood-red, and his mouth is full of razor teeth. Black lips, black tongue, dark grey freckles across the top of his trollish nose with its slitted nostrils. All fine and troll-like so far, but the problems start with the patch of white above his left eye, with its white-blonde eyebrow. The other eyebrow is black, like the hair above it, from which a curved horn now emerges. It’s a pretty decent horn, long and backwards-curving like a mountain goat’s, and he’d be pretty damned proud of it if there was a matching horn on the other side. As it is, the left side of his head still has its white, albino hair, and is as hornless as ever. He’s mostly troll, still partly human; stuck in the freakish middle where he doesn’t fucking fit into either category. 

Dave slides miserably to the floor, his head spinning with regrets and self-loathing. A quiet knock on the door rouses him, and Dave quickly re-towels himself. He unlocks it and opens it so that Karkat can hand over his clothes and shades. They’re clean and dry, because god-tier magic is at least good for some things, and pulling them on feels like grabbing a life-raft in the middle of a storm. With his shades on, he feels at least a little like himself again. He might not be human any more, but he’s still Dave Strider. 

He also has Dave Strider’s fuck-ups to deal with, he reminds himself when he opens the door to find Karkat standing anxiously in the corridor. Before Karkat can speak or yell or start waving his arms around at how fucking stupid Dave is, Dave throws his arms around him. Karkat pats gingerly at his back, and Dave whispers a quiet “Thanks, dude” into his ear. 

It’s a ‘thank you’ for not leaving him a crying mess when he had no reason to help, a ‘thank you’ for not telling him to fuck off after screwing up their relationship and leaving Karkat to deal with the consequences all alone. It’s a ‘thank you’ for trying to save him from himself so many times over the past three years. 

Karkat always tries so hard, even when he doesn’t want other people to know it. Dave can always tell. He hopes Karkat knows how grateful he is for all that effort. 

When he feels warm arms squeeze him tightly, Dave dares to hope that maybe he can make things right.


	3. Chapter 3

“We are going to find Rose and Kanaya, and they are going to sort this shit out, OK?”

Karkat seems worryingly calm and collected as he leads Dave by the hand or claw or whatever the fuck it is now toward the common area. Dave tugs at his grip, slowing the quick-march pace that Karkat always adopts when he’s stressed.

“Wait, man, shouldn’t we, like…talk about, y’know…what happened. I mean, fuck, I don’t exactly want to but….we probably _should_.”

Karkat stops, stands ramrod straight. His face is carefully neutral when he turns towards Dave.

“What exactly do you have to say?” He replies, quietly.

Dave scratches at his neck, brings his hand up to touch his brand-new horn. Damn, that feels fucking weird, and it really isn’t helping him concentrate on getting his thoughts in order. He really doesn’t want to fuck this up, he needs to get it right because there isn't going to be a second chance.

“Just that I’m sorry for being such a giant idiot, I guess. I mean, I shouldn’t have been drinkin’ anyway because I know that shit will fuck you up, I’ve seen my Bro drunk enough times to know that it never leads to good decisions. There’s no way I shoulda made you drink as well. And I’m sorry as shit for what happened after, like, if I knew for sure that it wouldn’t doom the timeline, I’d go back and erase the whole thing just so you didn’t have to deal with all of my shitty mistakes.”

Karkat keeps his voice calm, his face clear of emotion, but Dave sees the corner of his mouth twitch downward in response. There’s either relief or disappointment in his eyes, Dave can’t tell which.

“Anything else?” he adds, pointedly.

Dave thinks for a beat, fishes through his mind for anything else he fucked up. The answer hits him with a freight-train of guilt.

“Oh, shit, yeah, I’m sorry for ollying outie on you, that was a total dick move. Like, the worst brosmanship possible, I’m probably gonna have my membership to the holy order of bros revoked for that one.” Dave swallows, forces himself to cut the bullshit. “But seriously, I’m so fucking sorry, Karkat. For all of it. I understand if you don’t want to be bros anymore.”

Karkat shrugs, a gesture that looks completely unnatural on him. The little troll doesn’t do noncommittal; he throws praise or hellfire with equal force, never anything in between.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it. Besides, I’m not exactly fucking blameless. You’ve got bigger problems to deal with right now, and I’m not fucking leaving you to deal with this shitstorm on your own.”

That was…not how Dave expected that conversation to go. He expected yelling and screaming and Karkat leaving in a colossal huff that would take him days to come down from. He isn’t prepared for acceptance, for apparent forgiveness. Karkat acting this calm is creeping him the hell out, and he wonders if Karkat’s just holding himself together for Dave’s sake. That as soon as Dave’s back to being a cocky-ass human, he’ll fall apart and Dave will lose him forever. The idea makes him feel sick to his core, and for the first time ever he wishes Karkat would just yell at him. Whoever this cold, detached person is, it sure as hell isn’t his best bro.

________________________________________________________

“What the hell were you even doing down here, Dave?”

Rose is incredulous even as she tries to be sympathetic to Dave’s predicament. She’s been caring and more than willing to help, but the fact that she’s still wearing a party hat is spoiling the effect. Dave attempts, unconvincingly, to answer nonchalantly.

“Just exploring, dude. You never know what might be down here, there could be some ultimate superweapon or a million cartons of AJ, or even the fabled Snarkbuster 5000, the only artifact capable of making Vriska Serket shut the hell up. It’s a fucking long shot, but we can live in hope.”

Her pursed lips and raised eyebrows suggest he isn’t being terribly convincing, so Dave absconds to the front of their little foraging party to escape the heat of her gaze. Leading them cane-first, Terezi is sniffing enthusiastically for the trail of residue that will lead them back to the lab. She’s grinning like a shark; following the smell of troll-goop is obviously wiggler’s-play for someone with her nasal acuity. Dave thinks he can make out the vague scent himself, hovering sharp and acidic at the edge of his mind. It smells completely different with his new senses. Seeing in the dark is easier, too. This section of the meteor is lit by dim floor-lighting, but he can see just as well as if it was midday in Texas. Dave’s thoughts are interrupted when Terezi turns her blank gaze on him.

“You know, Dave, If you let me close enough I’ll be able to taste your blood color. Want to bet on which pretty color you’ve got in those veins?”

Dave grimaces, recalling the worrying fascination that Terezi had shown for his part-human, part-troll scent. Karkat had prevented her from getting close enough to lick him, but she’d gotten pretty damn close. Dave can feel Karkat’s eyes on him as he walks; he's been acting weird ever since they picked up the others from the common area. Mostly, he's just been staring quietly at Dave with an unreadable expression on his face. Kanaya is eyeing him too, but that’s only to be expected. She probably wants to know what type of blood runs through Dave’s veins as well.

Dave shoots Terezi a friendly “Nah, catch you later, I'd prefer to find out the old-fashioned way,” and falls back to walk with Karkat.

He doesn’t like the way that Karkat’s brow is furrowed or the way his shoulders are hunched forward as he walks. The troll is tense and unhappy, even more so than usual.

“What’s up, dude?” Dave asks, wanting to reach out and put an arm around his shoulder. A few days ago, he would have. It would have felt completely natural. If he was lucky, he might even have seen a little smile tug at Karkat’s lips. Now, though, Dave just keeps his hands in his pockets.

Karkat looks at him blankly. “Nothing you could understand, Strider. Don’t worry your hideous, mutated head about it.”

That stings a little, even though Dave hopes that all of this bullshit is just temporary. Karkat doesn't usually get so personal with his insults.

“Hey, man, not cool. What happened to mutant solidarity? We social outcasts gotta stick together.” He nudges Karkat gently with an elbow. Karkat snorts, amused by the comparison. Dave feels comforted when Karkat closes some of the distance between them, falling into step. The echo of their former closeness gives him a flicker of hope.

Dave notices Kanaya smiling softly at the two of them. He noticed the same smile earlier, when Karkat had told Vriska – who at the time was paralysed with fits of raucous laughter at the sight of the newly-altered Dave – that _'she could take a running jump off the meteor for all he cared, but she sure as fuck wasn’t coming with them on account of being the polar fucking opposite of helpful_ '. That had made Vriska laugh even harder, but Dave had seen the look that passed between Karkat and Kanaya. There had been something troll-specific going on, something he couldn’t begin to understand.

Karkat seems to walk a little taller with Dave at his side, although there’s still tension in his movements. Dave studies the set of Karkat’s eyebrows, the way his ears are flattened against his skull, the flare of his nostrils. He might have brand new trollish senses, including the ability to spot the subtle cues that should clue him in to Karkat’s mood, but Dave has no idea how to read them. He wishes he had some sort of Troll-Human Rosetta-Stone to help him figure out what it all means. For now, he just sticks close to Karkat, concentrating on the way their feet hit the ground in perfect unison.

________________________________________________________

The lab is a mess, the floor covered with a carpet of broken glass and disturbingly sticky residue. Terezi makes a face; the acidic smell in here is overwhelming, even to Dave’s inexperienced nose. He can’t imagine how bad it must smell to her. Rose looks at Dave expectantly from beneath raised eyebrows; it’s time for him to take the lead.

He picks his way carefully across the floor, leading everyone but Terezi toward the broken tank. The meteor’s resident bloodhound has elected to wait in the corridor and is no-doubt gossiping enthusiastically with her moirail over Trollian. The base of the tank still contains an inch or so of viscous liquid, but apart from that, it’s worryingly empty. The only sign that there was once a corpse lying immobile in the ooze is a trail of rusty blood leading to a nearby door. Dave hears Kanaya growl in the back of her throat, low and threatening.

“Gamzee,” she mutters, drawing her lipstick. Rose puts a steadying hand on her arm, an unspoken warning not to do anything rash. The murderclown is needed for the final battle, apparently; otherwise Kanaya would have hunted him down sweeps ago. That doesn’t mean he can get away with his disgusting corpse-hoarding habit unimpeded.

“I won’t kill him.” Kanaya assures her, “There are a multitude of things I can do that will make him wish I had.”

 _She even stalks her prey gracefully_ , Dave thinks, as he watches Kanaya exit, following the blood-trail toward the unlucky juggalo. His sister’s girlfriend is fucking terrifying. Dave makes a mental note not to piss her off.

Rose gently pushes past Dave and starts collecting some of the goop into alchemised test-tubes, taking care not to touch it. Dave wonders exactly how long she’s been carrying those around in her sylladex in the hope of finding something scientifically interesting. She’s certainly found something now, because he can’t imagine there being anything weirder than troll-transformation liquid on board this lump of rock. He really hopes she won’t start investigating the other tanks; nobody needs a bull-goat-crab-hybrid for an ectosibling.

When she’s finished, Dave can tell he’s in for an interrogation. The set of her shoulders is an unmistakable 'no Strider-bullshit' request.

“So. You were down here ‘exploring’, when you spotted what looked like a troll in a tank, correct?”

Dave nods, feeling the weight of his single horn throwing his head off-balance. He mentally curses his stupid, suddenly-asymmetrical body.

“And what did you do, in order to get it to explode quite so violently? Just gave it a gentle tap?”

He nods again.

“Yeah, I mean, I thought I saw the damn thing move. It was freaky as shit, like full B-movie, Hammer-horror creepy. I guess it didn’t move, though, because it was deader than disco when I checked it after the tanksplosion.”

Rose pinches the bridge of her nose, and Dave knows she’s trying to see a solution to the mess he’s gotten himself into. Her sigh informs him that it isn’t going to be quick and easy.

“The way I see it", she intones, deadly serious in a way that seems to be unique to the Lalonde side of the family, "we have two options in the short-term: option one is to attempt to synthesize some more of this substance, and use it to convert the rest of you into a troll. At least that way, you’ll be all the way there. Alternatively, option two is to kill you.”

That suggestion hits Dave like a kick in the…things that aren’t there anymore. His shock obviously shows, even through his shades, because Rose elaborates in an even more businesslike tone than usual.

“Kill you in the sense that you might god-tier back to life in your usual body. That’s the one the game presumably has stored somewhere, after all. In the case that it updates the theoretical ‘backup Dave’ in real time, we might have more of an issue. I’m also concerned about the fact you now presumably have two distinct and very different sets of DNA. There’s no way to know what the game will do with a genetic chimera, it might make things…worse.”

Dave recalls the last time he died, engulfed in a ball of livid green fire. It had been quick, but it certainly hadn’t been pleasant. The thought of one of his friends killing him, or worse, having to do it himself, makes him feel sick. There’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. He scratches his head absentmindedly, his hand automatically drawn to the base of his horn. Rubbing at the soft layer of tissue there feels strangely soothing.

“Thanks for the dynamite set of options, but I’m gonna have to go with the one that doesn’t involve taking the suicide train to uncertain fatesville. It ain’t sounding too attractive from your brochure.”

He glances down at Karkat, who’s been silent for a long time. His eyes are wide, but Dave swears he sees him nod slightly. This new, silent Karkat is adding more fuel to his freakout fire, but at least that seems like a small measure of encouragement. Dave shrugs, because Strider smart-assery is a universal constant whatever his species.

“Gotta troll with the punches, I guess. I choose door number one, Dr. Lalonde. Get your science on.”

Rose smiles wanly. She seems happy that there’s something for her to get on with. Dave is amused when she finally remembers the birthday hat, and attempts to remove it discreetly.

“Fine, Dave. I’m honestly very relieved you didn’t ask one of us to kill you. Kanaya and I will work on synthesizing more of whatever the hell this stuff is. I take it you don’t want to try using what’s there, considering its state of contamination?”

Dave surveys the goo in the bottom of the tank, which is viscous from evaporation and swirled through with rust-coloured blood. Probably better to try and get a fresh supply, he reasons, and the alchemiter is pretty damned useful for replicating stuff. Even if it looks the same, it’ll feel better to use some liquid that has never been in contact with a dead troll, an insane juggalo, or his own vomit.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” he replies, “looks like this stuff doesn’t keep too well if you let the air get to it.”

Rose nods, drawing herself up to her full height in a way that's probably meant to inspire confidence. “In that case, come and see me when we get back from this little field trip. I need to speak to you in private.”

She eyes him knowingly, and Dave’s stomach does a triple somersault off the 50ft high diving-board of _‘oh shit she knows I fucked my best friend.’_ Trying to keep his face blank, Dave nods. Speaking right now could only be bad.

Rose seems absorbed in her examination of the other tanks, so Dave drags Karkat to a more secluded corner. Just being with Karkat feels so much better than having anyone else around.

“So, dude, looks like I’m gonna go full troll. Like, sign me up for alien classes ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with any of this shit.” Dave motions at his horn, makes a vague pass over the rest of his body.

Karkat snorts, clearly not amused. He seems so closed-off all of a sudden, like he doesn’t want to hear about Dave’s stupid, incredibly serious, life-altering problems. That hurts, for some reason.

“Dave, from what I _remember_ , troll physiology isn’t all that different from human physiology. I’m sure you can figure it out without any help from me, and you’d better fucking go and do just that because I am not your goddamned schoolfeed.”

Dave visibly wilts. He doesn’t mean to, but hearing Karkat refuse to help him makes him feel like a huge asshole. He feels like he just got rejected, big time. Dave has no idea when he became so dependent on Karkat, but now he knows it for sure.

“C’mon, man. Don’t leave me hanging, here. I don’t know shit about quadrants or bulges or nooks or any of that anatomy stuff you mention when you’re busy yelling at people. Isn’t there like a Troll When Harry Met Sally we can watch, at least? I want to know what she’s having if she’s a troll.”

Karkat gives him a _look_ , one that very clearly intimates that _he should have at least a passing acquaintance with some of those things, now shouldn’t he_? But there’s a little smile there, too, and Dave knows it’s because rom-coms are the way to this particular troll’s blood-pusher. Maybe he hasn’t completely fucked everything up.

“Fine. But I’m choosing the movies.” Dave can tell that most of the aggression in his voice is blessedly fake.

“Naturally, dude. You’re the quadrant-master, after all.”

One rare-but-goofy Strider-grin later and Dave feels a whole lot more positive about fixing things with Karkat. The mood is ruined slightly when a very worked-up Kanaya strides purposefully into the room, a naked corpse slung over one shoulder and her party-hat comically askew. Thankfully, the corpse is revealed to be the tank-troll, and not Gamzee.

On the way back to their ersatz home-base, their little slice of civilization and comfort in the heart of the meteor, Dave almost has enough courage to grab hold of Karkat’s hand. Almost, but not quite.


	4. Chapter 4

The dream starts out fairly pedestrian, and to begin with Dave isn’t even sure he’s asleep. He’s in someone’s memory of Can Town, far bigger and grander than the one in his own meteor. The Mayor is busy arranging his loyal citizens, admiring his handiwork with blank, dead eyes. Unable to suppress a grin, Dave sits down next to him and gives the little Carapacian a hug. The Mayor returns it silently, but Dave can tell he’s happy; it’s always easy to tell with the Mayor. That’s one of the best things about him. Dave wonders how long this Mayor has been building, whether he had a Dave, Terezi or Karkat to help him with construction. The chalk artwork here looks different, completely unfamiliar. Maybe in this timeline half of the party weren’t murdered in cold blood, although it could just be that the Dave who belongs here is right-handed. Timelines have been pruned into oblivion for lesser things.

Dave’s idle musings are interrupted by a noise he’s never heard before, a kind of rattling chitter. It takes him a second to realize that it’s coming from the Mayor, his eyes wide with fear as presses his back into a stack of cans.

“What’s got you so freaked out, little dude?” he asks, before glancing down at the hand he’s unconsciously extended toward the terrified little ghost.

Sheets of white skin are peeling from it, revealing a sickening grey beneath. Yellow claws burst forth, displacing his fingernails, and he hears each little fragment of his humanity hit the ground one by one before the pain in his head begins. Dave screams as a horn thrusts through his skull, every ridge of it sending waves of agony directly into his brain. Through a haze of red he sees the Mayor run, hears the crash as carefully arranged can stacks come tumbling down. Dave feels his stomach drop as the dreamscape shifts and the familiar is rudely yanked away, only to be replaced by darkness and biting cold. Something wraps itself around him, as black as the night that surrounds him. Other tentacles follow, until he’s gasping for breath, every inch of his body covered in writhing, questing tendrils. When one worms its way beneath his boxers and _into_ an opening that has no business being there, Dave wakes up panicked and desperate for air.

________________________________________________________

In another corner of the meteor, Karkat is hunched uncomfortably over his desk. He’s tried to sleep, tried to silence the constant chatter of his own thoughts, tried everything bar smacking himself over the head very hard to try and dislodge Dave Strider from his think-pan. Everything had been fine back when he had a strategy, when all he had to do was follow the unconscious little signals that the human was dropping that he might be looking for a closer relationship. It had felt like gravity was pulling them toward one another, that when the time came to suggest that Dave take up residence in one of his quadrants, he would just know. Maybe too many romance novels had softened his blood-pusher, but Karkat was beginning to hope that they might have even had a shot at Dave’s human form of quadrantless romance. He’d long since given up on putting his feelings into a neat little box, it had been the same way with Terezi, but with Dave it was somehow even worse.

Worse because Dave was human, and humans seemed to only want relationships with the opposite sex. Karkat had witnessed a full-on Strider freak-out half a sweep ago when he suggested moiraillegience, even though they practically already _were _moirails. Dave didn’t do ‘romance’ with guys, even the non-sexual kind. It was so fucking stupid, but if Dave wanted to call it being ‘bros’ then Karkat was happy to let him. It was better than the one-sided, self-destructive pale mincing machine he’d put himself through with Gamzee. They were best bros, and if Dave wasn’t pale for him then he was doing a damned good impression of it.__

And yet…

And yet, there had been times when Dave had slipped an arm around his shoulder, when he’d _heard_ the human’s heart start to beat faster, felt Dave's tension as he stopped himself from turning it into a full-on hug. Later, when they’d spent enough time doing meaningless bullshit - watching movies and eating snacks and playing dumb games and stacking cans like wigglers – for Dave to feel comfortable, Karkat had noticed how he'd forced himself not to pull away when Karkat leaned on him (humans make good pillows, it turns out), or when their hands had accidentally touched. Strider was difficult to handle, like a feral meowbeast; get too close too quickly and he’d bolt for the hills. The way he’d finally opened up when Karkat gained his trust, though, was exhilarating. It was like giving water to a troll who’d been caught out in the sun. Like Karkat was the only person who could save him.

So when Karkat had found Dave with a bottle in his hand, emotions standing out as plain on his face as his stupid shades, he had taken the chance to find out how Dave really felt. The drinking was a mistake, but as for the rest of it…Karkat couldn't remember a time he'd been happier.

Dave was flushed for him, but in the human way that was pale and black and red and grey all at once. In his drunken state, Karkat couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

In the ‘morning’, Dave had been gone, without a word.

The next time he’d seen him, Dave had been naked and mid-transformation, his mind consumed by pain and terror.

Karkat had tried his best to comfort him, but it had hurt that Dave hadn’t acknowledged that anything had changed between them.

Dave, however, had changed.

Then, the human-turned-troll had deftly obliterated the rest of his hope with just six words: _‘I’m sorry. For all of it.’_

And now, to add insult to injury, Dave was a goddamned troll. He was just like everyone else Karkat had ever attempted a romance with, unable to reciprocate his stupid, quadrant-blurring, clusterfuck affections.

So long happiness, it was nice fucking knowing you.

Karkat is roused from his self-loathing when his husktop stridulates loudly to signal the arrival of a new message. He knows who it's from before he looks at it.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: hey man   
TG: i know its early but i got a troll question  
TG: if youre awake i mean  
CG: YES, I’M FUCKING AWAKE.   
CG: AS ALWAYS.   
CG: WHAT IDIOTIC, GRUBWORTHY QUESTION IS CURRENTLY KEEPING YOU FROM YOUR USUAL STATE OF BLISSFUL UNCONSCIOUSNESS?   
CG: BECAUSE HEAVEN FUCKING FORBID THAT DAVE STRIDER SHOULD JOIN THE REST OF US IN SPENDING OUR NIGHTS CURSING THE UNIVERSE FOR CREATING US IN THE FIRST PLACE.  
TG: jegus dude  
TG: its way too early for that many angry words  
TG: if you want me to fuck off just say so no need to take a chisel to your goddamned shoulder   
CG: SORRY.   
CG: JUST SPILL IT, STRIDER.   
TG: ok fine if youre sure   
TG: i know im kind of a burden atm ok   
TG: its just   
TG: are the nightmares normal   
TG: because that is the most insane set of mindfucks ive ever had the pleasure of experiencing   
TG: and ive dreamed about doing it with my sister before so you know im being serious here   
CG: LOOK, FIRSTLY, T.M. FUCKING I. I AM LITERALLY THROWING UP AT THE MENTAL IMAGE OF YOU AND LALONDE TOGETHER, AND I STILL HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT ALL THAT ‘INCEST’ HOOFBEAST SHIT IS ABOUT.  
CG: SECONDLY, YES, IT’S NORMAL.  
CG: NOT TO STATE THE OBVIOUS, BUT WHY DO YOU THINK MY ENTIRE SPECIES SLEEPS IN PODS FULL OF SOPORIFIC SLIME?   
CG: THAT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION, STRIDER.   
CG: YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK, YOU JUST FUCKING FOUND OUT.  
TG: shitballs  
TG: not gonna lie that is not the answer i was hoping for  
TG: i was kinda hoping that all the skin melting and tentacle bondage would be a one time thing

Karkat pauses midway through his revolted response, slumping forward onto his desk and wishing he had the guts to tear out his ganderbulbs so he wouldn’t need to look at this bullshit. Being not-quite moirails with a troll he wants so much more from is torture enough without the troll in question being Dave shitlicking Strider. He wants to just tell Dave to fuck off, to talk to Terezi or Kanaya so that he can start putting himself back together. He just _can't_ , no matter how much all of this hurts. Dave is _his_ , goddamn it, fuck everyone else. If Karkat can’t have him after sacrificing so much, nobody on this stupid rock deserves him. Looking up at the screen makes him freeze momentarily with shock.

TG: so in other less horrific news  
TG: i found out my blood color  
TG: care to take a guess bro?  
CG: WE BOTH KNOW THERE’S ONLY ONE ANSWER THAT I WOULD GIVE EVEN A PERCENTAGE OF A WHINEBUG’S SHIT ABOUT.  
CG: IT’S FUCKING RED, ISN’T IT?  
TG: got it in one dude  
TG: give that troll a cigar  
TG: i guess its hardly a surprise though its the same color as its always been  
TG: no biggie  
TG: i mean obviously back on alternia its like a huge biggie  
TG: like the biggiest biggie in the history of humongous problems  
TG: im not saying its been a walk in the public lawnring for you man  
TG: i know how much it fucked you up and that shit was downright disgraceful  
TG: but in the glorious interspecies rainbow republic of teenagers who dont give a fuck about societal norms aka us  
TG: it just seems like  
TG: meh  
TG: red blood who cares  
TG: karkat  
TG: you still there man  
TG: shit did i offend you  
CG: WHAT, NO.  
CG: I AGREE, I GUESS.  
CG: WHO CARES? THERE’S NO-ONE LEFT TO, APART FROM US.  
CG: ALTHOUGH, I’M GLAD YOU’RE NOT REPULSED BY IT.  
CG: BECAUSE YOU ENDING UP WITH THAT BLOOD COLOR IS PROBABLY ENTIRELY MY FAULT.  
CG: I MADE YOUR RIDICULOUS FORMER SPECIES, REMEMBER?  
TG: dude dont beat yourself up so much  
TG: red is the shit and thats all there is to it  
CG: WAIT, DID YOU THRASH AROUND IN YOUR SLEEP SO MUCH THAT YOU CUT YOURSELF?  
CG: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU SURVIVE THIS LONG WITH SUCH SHITTY SELF-PRESERVATION SKILLS?  
TG: what no im fine  
TG: no bleeding necessary   
TG: it just sorta made itself obvious after all the kinky nightmare shit  
CG: OH GOD.  
TG: speaking of which  
TG: how do i get this thing to let go of my hand  
TG: also holy shit this fucker is sensitive

Karkat facepalms. How the hell is he supposed to deal with this level of emotional fuckery? Dave has his hand trapped in his bulge, and is asking _him_ for help. The temptation to offer to deal with it in person is overwhelming, but the idea of actually offering makes him feel sick. There’s no fucking way it wouldn’t be a complete disaster even if Dave said yes.

CG: THIS IS ALL THE ADVICE YOU ARE GETTING, BECAUSE FUCK THIS NOISE, YOU INCOMPETANT NOOKSTAIN OF A WOULD-BE TROLL.  
CG: YOU’RE GOING TO GIVE *ME* DAYMARES AT THIS RATE, WHICH IS QUITE THE ACHIEVEMENT SINCE I NEVER FUCKING SLEEP.  
TG: noted  
TG: sorry man i wouldnt ask if i hadnt been stuck like this for a while  
CG: STOP.  
CG: TALKING.  
CG: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.  
CG: JUST TRY AND RELAX, AND IF YOU’RE GRIPPING IT ACCIDENTALLY, STOP IT.  
CG: STROKE IT GENTLY. EVENTUALLY IT WILL RELAX, TOO.  
CG: I ASSUME YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THE REST BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU I WILL IMPALE MYSELF WITH THE NEAREST SHARP OBJECT.  
CG: IT WOULD BE LESS PAINFUL.  
TG: thanks man  
TG: that seems to be working  
TG: i guess i panicked a bit there  
TG: when i shake hands with my junk it doesnt usually shake back  
CG: I AM BLEEDING TO DEATH RIGHT NOW, AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.  
CG: MY LAST ACT WILL BE TO WRITE ‘DAVE STRIDER KILLED ME WITH HIS MONUMENTAL SEXUAL INEXPERIENCE’ IN MY OWN BLOOD.  
TG: dude thats hilarious  
TG: you make it sound like i fucked you to death  
TG: also holy shit how long do trolls take to bleed out because its gonna take ages to write all that  
TG: anyways you want to watch a movie later?  
TG: i gotta go see rose and i know im going to need some karkat time after that  
TG: not exactly looking forward to being her new favourite lab animal  
CG: YES, FINE.  
CG: MY RESPITEBLOCK, AS USUAL. I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE NEAR YOUR OINKBEAST-STY OF A ROOM.  
TG: sweet  
TG: its a date   
CG: A DATE?  
TG: #ironic of course  
TG: unless   
CG: UNLESS WHAT? FINISH YOUR FUCKING SENTENCES, STRIDER.  
TG: never mind man ill catch you later 

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]


	5. Chapter 5

“It even looks like her.”

Rose looks up, surprised. Kanaya has been examining the body of the tank-troll for a while, her brows knitted with concentration. Now, she’s looking wistfully at its face.

“Looks like whom?” Rose inquires, putting down her sylladex cards.

Her beloved frowns, a clear sign that she was thinking aloud. Rose doesn’t push her, she knows that Kanaya likes to have time to marshal her thoughts.

“Aradia. It’s a male, obviously, but it bears a strong resemblance nonetheless. The horns are nearly identical, and it has the same blood color.”

Kanaya swipes a thumb over the unnamed boy’s cheek; he’s distressingly young, only six sweeps or so. That is, he would be, if he’d had the chance to live. The poor thing never even had the opportunity to draw breath. Kanaya shivers slightly as she pulls the sheet over its head, covering up the memory of an old friend sculpted in dead flesh.

“The only explanation I can think of for one of the tanks to contain a troll is that Aradia prototyped herself during our session. It was after entry to the medium, so it had no effect on how the imps manifested. However, her genetic code was presumably stored somewhere. Perhaps a random glitch in the software led to it being uploaded by one of the lab computers? I have no idea. I’m sure if Sollux were here he’d be able to find out easily, but I have no delusions about my hacking abilities. Either way, it does little to solve my problem.”

Kanaya sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, and Rose laughs internally at how her matesprit has picked up her habit. She loves the troll word, loves the idea of being not just somebody’s friend but their _mate_ , and ‘sprit’ is so close to ‘spirit’ that the implications send pleasant tingles down her spine. Trolls don’t have girlfriends or boyfriends; they have _soulmates_. It’s deliciously romantic in all the ways that the younger Rose used to hate. She's since discovered that it’s easy to scoff at romance when your only means of exposure to it are your mother’s lurid soft-core porn novels. It’s a lot more difficult when you actually fall head-over-heels in love.

“That sounds plausible, and I don’t see how else it could have happened. Why do you say it won’t help, though? I would have thought a substance that could create more trolls would be exactly what you were looking for.”

Kanaya leans heavily against the desk, and looks down at Rose with sad eyes. The pain stands out through the beautiful shade of green, and Rose instinctively clasps her hand. The continuation of her species is an impossible task, but it’s one Kanaya has sworn to carry out. Rose has lost count of the number of times her mate has woken covered in sweat, the memory of the destruction of the Matriorb filling her mind with horror and her eyes with tears.

“Oh Rose, I know you want me to find hope in this, but there really is none. My decision to hatch the Matriorb here, on this meteor, is what led to its destruction. Growing trolls in vats cannot hope to serve as an alternative, especially considering this poor thing didn’t live. None of the creatures in the labs are alive yet, they’re waiting to be given life somehow. I wouldn’t know how to begin doing that.”

She strokes Rose’s hair affectionately, letting the blonde strands slide over her fingertips.

“And I wouldn’t presume to start stealing life from others. What happened to Dave was unfortunate, and I don’t wish for any repeat performances. Not if the rest of humanity is as captivating as you are, my dear.”

Rose laughs as she feels her cheeks turning pink. Kanaya knows exactly how to make her melt.

“You’ve met my brother, Kanaya. Does he skew your view of humanity?”

Kanaya snickers under her breath, her eyes smiling.

“A sample size of two is hardly enough to make a conclusion. I prefer to think of Dave as an outlier.”

Rose grins, but talking about Dave reminds her of the work she needs to focus on. Replicating the substance that converted him to trollhood is proving more difficult than anticipated.

“I should get back to this, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d be showing some proper appreciation for all of your eloquent flattery. Dave is relying on me to return him to his full outlier glory.”

Kanaya leaves her with a kiss, gentle and chaste but with the promise of more. It keeps Rose going as she wrestles with the problem of making more of a game construct that should never have existed in the first place.

\-----------------------------------------------

It’s an hour later when Dave strolls into the lab that Rose and Kanaya have commandeered. They seem to be trying their best to turn it into a full-on horror cliché, what with the racks of test-tubes, the stains and burn marks on the counter, and, oh yeah, the corpse under a sheet. Dave ushers the thought that _'there was probably a lot of blood in that corpse but I bet there isn’t any more'_ into the special V.I.P ‘Nope’ area, behind the velvet nope at the back of his brain. The badass vampire who’s fucking his sister still has to eat, after all. He hadn’t found her nearly as creepy before this whole trollification incident, but then, human vampires are fucking imaginary. An inbuilt fear of rainbow-drinkers seems like a pretty sensible survival instinct to Dave, and it’s not one he’s going to argue with.

Rose is frowning, and that doesn’t change when she notices him enter. She looks tired, and Dave hopes she hasn’t been up all night fiddling around with slime on his account. They both have a tendency to get carried away with projects, and Dave knows this alchemy nonsense is exactly her sort of puzzle. He had to force her to quit trying to synthesize AJ when he found her passed out in the common area next to a half-dozen empty coffee mugs.

When he speaks, Dave tries his best to keep it light, hoping against hope that she’s looking so worried about something other than him.

“Sup, Lalonde. Been playing mad scientist?”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes, indeed. I’m positively insane. Observe how I cackle maniacally.”

Rose stands stock still, arms folded. Dave tries hard not to let his poker-face slip, because damn, nobody does sarcasm as well as his ecto-sis.

“Getting to the point,” she continues, “we may have a serious problem with synthesizing more of the substance we need to complete the transformation. Allow me to show you why.”

She holds up a sylladex card containing an empty test-tube. It has a perfectly mundane code on the reverse, nothing to write home about. Rose then draws another card, one holding a tube full of the goop. Dave doesn’t see what all of the fuss is about, it’s just another boring-ass code, until Rose holds up the cards side-by-side. He feels his pulse quicken when he realizes the codes are the same.

“Shit. What the fuck?”

It’s not terribly eloquent, but it’s the best Dave can come up with. Rose sighs.

“The goo seems to be a game construct, like the sprite pendants or the kernalsprite itself. We aren’t supposed to go around messing around with it, so the game doesn’t provide a code for it. Presumably, in the regular universe, this shit just doesn’t exist. We can’t copy it the easy way. I’m not sure we can even copy it at all.”

 _'Fuck,'_ Dave screams inside his head, _'I’m going to be fucking stuck like this. A goddamned freak for the rest of my life'._  He’s never been more glad that his shades hide the panic in his eyes. Years of practice help him banish it from his voice.

“Well, that sucks huge, hairy balls, Rose, I’m not gonna lie. What the fuck do I do now?”

Rose frowns, squinting into Dave’s face, and his flippant comment about being her lab-rat suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

“Dave, your eyebrow…It was completely blonde yesterday, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs.

“I’m not sure. I mean, yeah, I think so. Why?”

She pulls a compact mirror from her sylladex, flashing it at him. Dave can see what she means, there are black strands at the outer edge now. About a quarter of an inch of Strider-blonde has been subsumed by troll-black.

“It looks like you might not need any assistance, after all. I’m going to need to chart how fast this is happening, though, and I need some of your human DNA before there isn’t any left.”

Dave looks at her, confused. He freely admits that he paid little-to-no attention in science class, and his mind immediately wandered somewhere uncomfortable when Rose asked him for a DNA sample.

She rolls her eyes, and he can see her frustration at having to dumb it down for him.

“I’m just going to pull out some hairs, Dave, it’s nothing ‘mad-sciency’ to worry about. The follicles have DNA in them. I might need it to change you back later, if Kanaya and I manage to find the machine that created this liquid in the first place. As for checking the rate of transformation…”

Rose grabs his arm, and flourishes a sharpie marker. She draws a ring around the edge one of the larger white patches, close to his shoulder.

“…the procedure is quick and painless. Come and see me at this time tomorrow and we’ll be able to tell how much the white area has shrunk.”

The same can't be said of the way Rose tweezes some of the white-blonde strands from his head, which hurts way more than he expected. Rose stores the hairs away carefully in a clean tube, and Dave wonders if that'll be all that's left of his humanity soon. A huge bummer, he reasons, but it could be worse. He could be part bird and part sprite right now, if things had gone worse in this timeline. Rose yawns loudly as she puts away her scattered sylladex cards. It's obvious how tired she is, how much she’s been exerting herself over something that now seems to be totally pointless.

“Thanks for trying. Y’know, to make more of the trollification goop. I can tell it was a huge pain in the ass.”

She smiles at him, and Dave remembers why he’s friends with Rose in the first place. She’s always had more time and affection for him than he deserves.

“You’re welcome, Dave. It’s nothing that can’t be remedied by spending a few hours in the common-room with Kanaya. I made a new knitting pattern while I was here alchemizing things, and it’s going to make a delightfully horrible sweater.”

He grins in return, feeling his unfamiliar fangs brush his lower lip.

“Sweet. You knit it, I’ll wear it.”

She laughs as she leaves the room, and Dave follows her out into the corridor.

“I’ll hold you to that, Dave. You really don’t know how ugly this thing is going to be.”

Dave couldn’t give two shits, he’d wear a garbage bag if she dared him to.

“Bring it on, Lalonde.”

\-----------------------------------------------

Trudging slowly towards Karkat’s room with an armful of snacks, Dave attempts to figure out what the hell he’s doing. Sure, the idea of bro-time with a movie sounds great, but he knows that there’s no fucking way things are going to be casual or normal. Karkat has been occupying more of his thoughts than he’d care to admit. It was fine back when his stupid, irrational fantasies had no texture, no depth. Now Dave knows exactly how it feels to have Karkat’s teeth catch his lower lip, how it feels to run his fingers through his best-bro’s hair. Trying to watch a fucking rom-com with Karkat on the other end of the couch is going to be unbearable; trolls sucking face with each other is the opposite of what he needs right now. Maybe if he hadn’t fucked everything up so comprehensively, he would have had the courage to man the hell up and admit his feelings to himself. He might even have been able to ask Karkat on a real date, instead of making stupid jokes about it.

If that wasn’t bad enough, his new troll-hormones are sending him a swathe of conflicting signals about Karkat. He wants to hug him and protect him and make him feel safe, which is confusing as fuck, because since when did Dave have any experience of doing that? The strange, alien heat in his stomach when he thinks about Karkat’s arms wrapped around him also suggests that his freaky-ass crotch-tentacle would like to make Karkat’s acquaintance, which is hardly a fucking surprise, but that feels odd when combined with the other, more platonic feelings. Wrong, even, but not so wrong that it doesn’t also feel thrilling in a bizarrely kinky sort of way. Trolls may not have ‘the gay thing’, but this conflict feels almost as disorientating. Dave is an emotional wreck; he’s gone from confused-as-shit, apparently gay human to confused-as-fuck troll pervert in the space of 48 hours. 

The sexual whiplash is almost as disturbing as not being able to extricate his hand from his crotch until he’d calmed his junk down, and he’d be a lying heap of shit if he didn’t admit to thinking exclusively about his best buddy while figuring out how to deal with the problem. On top of it all, he needs to alchemize new sheets. Troll masturbation is messy as fuck, even if Dave isn’t totally sure he was doing it correctly. Maybe practice makes perfect, but it had certainly felt like something was missing from the experience.

His thoughts are interrupted when he realizes he’s reached Karkat’s door. Shit, this is too soon, too much, he’s not in control of his emotions and he feels so fucking _uncool_. He hopes to god it doesn’t show.

Dave doesn’t get the opportunity to abscond, to try again later, because Karkat obviously heard him coming and opens the door. He looks distinctly unimpressed. 

“Are you going to stand out here like a fucking tool all day, or are you actually going to come in?”

Dave puts up his defenses, just a second too late. He knows Karkat saw something on his face, and he hopes it wasn’t too obvious that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

“Sure, man, just trying to make an entrance. Let’s get this party started.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: panic attack ahead. Just sayin'

Karkat is rambling about quadrants and vacillation, but Dave is far too busy freaking out to pay attention. He knows Karkat will flip his shit if he realizes that every detail about the vagaries of moirallegiance and kismessitude has been passing straight over his single horn, because he can’t stop watching Karkat's lips moving. A carefully deployed set of ‘hmm’s and ‘yeah’s whenever he pauses is helping to maintain the impression that Dave is listening, but it's hardly a permanent solution. If that wasn't bad enough, it's obvious that Karkat is keeping his distance, leaning into the opposite arm of the couch. Everything is awkward and uncomfortable, and there are no fucking prizes for guessing why. 

During previous movie nights, all Dave had to worry about was feeling like an utter failure to his Bro’s memory and shitty excuse for a best friend. Feeling like he wanted to pet Karkat’s hair or kiss those angry lips had been…uncomfortable. The physical discomfort he could deal with, 'Hiding your Boner 101' is on page one of the fifteen-year-old boy handbook, after all. The emotional turmoil had been more difficult to mask. A few days before his birthday, Rose had caught him watching Karkat, sneaking glances at the troll as he lost himself in a romance novel. Of course, it had to be that one particular novel that made his cheeks flush greyish-pink and made the cutest goddamn smile creep over his face. Dave realized too late that his sister had put down her knitting and replaced it with a big, shit-eating grin. He’d tried to ignore her, carry on with his mixing, but she’d gently pushed the lid of the husktop closed. 

“Are you OK, Dave? You look a little… _flushed.”_ She couldn't have been less subtle if she tried. 

Dave had nearly had a heart attack, and Rose could hardly miss the way his head had snapped up to see if Karkat had heard. The little troll was blissfully unaware; his face was still buried in his book. Dave, on the other hand, was caught in a Lalonde trap with nowhere to run. 

Rose had sighed and looked pointedly at her girlfriend, who was happily crocheting a misshapen squiddle. 

“Dave, we don’t have a lot of time left. Do you really want to waste it?” 

He’d asked her where she got off accusing him of time-wastery, he was literally a master of time, so he could do whatever he fucking liked with it. His latest audio masterpiece was a weapon so epic that Lord English would freeze into a gigantic green douchecicle the second its magnificent beats caressed his gross skull ear-holes, so she should quit interrupting weapon development. Rose had left him to it, sighing with exasperation. 

If Dave had thought _that_ was bad, being a troll is over 9000 times more confusing. He doesn’t understand any of this quadrant bullshit. The trolls in Karkat’s movies are doing the same things that humans do in these godawful movies: cuddling or making out or having sexually charged arguments with each other. It's just that trolls never do more than one of them with the same person. Dave finds it surreal (not to mention boring and confusing) watching a dude snuggle the shit out of another dude, before going off to get his yell on at some chick and make out with yet _another_ dude. It just seems…fucking _complicated_ , even without the fourth quadrant, which seems to involve nagging two other people until they decide they’d rather hate-fuck each other than spend another minute listening to you talk. 

Troll romance is bad enough without the specific effect that Karkat is having on him, and _fuck._ Karkat is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. Dave knows that’s ridiculous, because he’s spent almost every day with the shouty little guy for the past year without needing to study his face all the time, but he can’t stop looking at him. Karkat was smart and snarky and the more time they spent together, the more Dave had to admit that he was _hot_ , but he’s never had this many conflicting Karkat-urges before. Normal, quadrantless attraction had felt natural in a human body; in a troll body it feels fucking _weird_. He wants to snuggle the shit out of Karkat and shove his tongue down his throat and piss him off by telling him how much this monotonous lecturing makes him sound like his fuckwit ancestor, all at once. He wants a rise out of Karkat in every possible way, and it feels so _wrong_ that it’s tearing him up inside. 

Dave draws his legs toward his body, curling into a ball as discreetly as he can. The last thing he needs is to distract Karkat from his never-ending quadramble with his creepy, obsessive feelings. I’m a fucking disgrace no matter what species I am, he thinks, holding his legs tight to his chest. 

The movie’s been over for a good thirty seconds before Dave notices, and by then it’s too late to hide the fact he’s curled into the fetal position like a frightened little kid. Karkat’s frown hurts like a slap: Karkat’s upset, it’s all his fault, and that is the _worst fucking thing_. Dave’s mind fills up with _bad_ and _wrong_ as worry replaces Karkat’s frown. His heart is hammering, his lungs are burning, and Dave realizes too late that this is a panic attack and he doesn’t know what to do. He has no fucking clue how to get air into his lungs, how to stop the crushing pain in his chest. He’s going to die, he’s going to die _again_ , all because he didn’t pay attention to what the elementary school nurse said when a bigger kid had stolen his shades. He’d nearly passed out in the playground, trying to maintain his cool even as he struggled for breath. She’d told him to learn some breathing exercises but, of course, that shit ain’t the Strider way. The Strider way was to spar with Bro until even the biggest kids stayed away from the boy who could break their arm without breaking a sweat. It was so long ago, and he doesn’t remember, _he doesn’t remember_ what she did to get him to breathe again. 

Dave feels warm arms around him, feels Karkat’s hand on the back of his neck. Over the sound of his gasps for air, he can hear Karkat’s “shooosh”, a long, soothing hiss that goes straight to his heart. Although the other troll is fever-warm, Dave feels cooling waves of relaxation wash over him, the feeling that everything’s going to be OK. It’s a brand new feeling, nothing like the awkward fluttering in his chest whenever Karkat hugged him before. This is pure comfort, pure affection, Dave would even call it _love_ , if that wasn’t all kinds of inappropriate. Right now, he’d do absolutely anything to stay like this, wrapped up in Karkat. It’s where I belong, he thinks, where I’ve always belonged. How did I spend so long running away from this? 

Karkat runs a hand through his hair, gently stroking at the base of Dave’s horn. It’s so strangely intimate that it would ordinarily cause some handle-based emotional acrobatics, but Dave can feel his lungs fill with air as he relaxes, his heart slowing from drum and bass to hip hop. Even though he can feel a clicking, purring sound in his chest (which definitely didn’t get his approval; what the fuck, alien body?), and he knows this must be _pale_ , it must be what Karkat has wanted from him all along, it still doesn’t feel _right_. He wants to return Karkat’s hug, to carry him to the nearest idiotic pile of trash and talk to him about shit he’s never told anyone else. Shit that he’s trained himself for years not to think about. It’s too much, too vulnerable, and it doesn’t fit with the desire to kiss Karkat, which has only gotten stronger. If pale feels like this, then red must be fucking intense, and Dave knows for sure that he’s as flushed as a goddamned load-gaper for the troll holding him right now. _You don’t have sexy thoughts about your moirail, and you certainly don't pail with them,_ his body tells him, _that’s fucking disgusting_. 

Without warning, the panic is back, taking control of Dave’s muscles and shaking them violently. He has to get out get out this isn’t right, he’s a fucking freak and he’s going to hurt Karkat. It’s too much, too much, too much. Dave attempts to pry himself from Karkat’s embrace, but the other troll is stronger, his arms suddenly gripping tightly. 

“NO, STRIDER! You don’t get to fucking leave AGAIN!” Karkat’s voice is thick with anguish, desperate with fear. “I’m not your emotional training-wheels! You can’t just keep reaching out to me and then running away as if I don’t even fucking matter to you! I have FEELINGS, you ASS!” 

Karkat is crying now; fat, pinkish drops rolling down both cheeks. Dave didn’t know it was possible to feel like a bigger piece of shit than he already did, but it looks like the universe has laid on hitherto unknown depths of shittiness especially for him, because Dave has descended all of the shittiness levels. All of them. 

“I’m sorry.” The words slip out quietly. “Dude, Karkat. You matter more than anything; I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t tell you that. I just…I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m pretty sure that whatever it is, I’m...doing it wrong.” 

Karkat’s arms relax slightly. Dave can feel Karkat’s tears soaking into his shirt as he waits to find out what his punishment will be. Whether Karkat will kick him the fuck out or never speak to him again, or call him all of the names under the Green Sun until his face is blood-red. Dave feels Karkat take a deep breath, his chest pressed against Dave’s side, and he tenses in anticipation. 

“Did it ever fucking occur to you that we could work out what’s been going on between us _together?_ What hit you over the head so hard that you’re too dumb to even deal with _talking_ about relationships?” 

Not what, Dave thinks; _who_. 

“I can try it, man. I'd uh, do that...for you.” Dave wants it to sound smooth. It does not sound smooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be a bit less frequent while I try and write a story of my own with actual characters I've made up, so sorry about that.
> 
> Also sorry about any inaccuracies in the panic attack description, I've only ever had mild ones but they suuuuuucked. I'm pretty sure you aren't supposed to touch people who have them, but moirallegience is pretty touchy feely so I went with it. They're not moirails but you know what I mean.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to NothingSoDivine for beta reading :D  
> Serious pale-porn ahead.

“How do you fucking live like this?” Dave asks, as Karkat cradles him like a baby. 

He shifts so that he’s leaning back onto Karkat, tucked up safely in his buddy’s arms. It’s stupid to feel embarrassed by all of this bro-on-bro touching, there’s nobody else here to see them snuggling up like a pair of sleeping kittens. He wants to stay here forever, but he also wants to abscond and pretend he never let Karkat get this close. _A lifetime of not being touched will do that to a guy_ , he thinks; _yet another thing to thank Bro for_. As good as it feels to press his back against another warm, breathing person, Dave isn’t used to it yet. 

“Like what? As a troll?” Karkat practically purrs it into his ear, and Dave melts even further. He’s never felt so vulnerable, and yet at the same time he feels completely safe. 

“Nah, not necessarily. Most of you guys seem pretty together, when you’re not killing each other. I just mean all of this...having to think about how every action fits into a little box, because if you don’t get it right it makes you all messed up inside.” 

Karkat starts stroking his hair again. It feels so good that Dave can’t suppress a little clicking sound. He has no idea what it means, but his body seems to want to make all kinds of weird, totally uncool noises. Karkat pauses, surprised. 

“Shit, is that not OK?" Karkat's voice sounds guilty all of a sudden "I…I feel like I’m kind of taking advantage of you, like I'm being some kind of pale-predator. Sorry. You just seemed like you needed it.” 

Dave laughs softly, feeling the warmth of contentment growing in his chest. 

“Nah, dude. That was a good noise. As far as I can tell, I mean. Keep doing that as long as you want. This is, like, the nicest thing.” Or it would be, Dave thinks, looking up at Karkat’s sly little smile, if I didn’t feel like a total creep for wanting to kiss you right now. 

Dave shivers slightly as Karkat brushes Dave’s horn with his fingertips, because goddamn, that feels good. 

“I like this, Karkat. I should have fucking listened when you said you wanted to be moirails, I’m such an idiot. It’s just, I still feel kinda…I dunno. I can’t explain it.” 

Karkat sighs, his breath ruffling Dave’s hair. 

“I suggest you give it a try, Strider. If you’re pale for me then you need to be able to fucking talk to me.” 

_This is a test, then_ , Dave thinks. _If I don’t do this right is he going to abandon me? I should have known I couldn't handle all of this touchy-feely emotions crap, it's the same thing that always happens. People don't stick around when they pour their fucking hearts out and don't get anything but ironic jokes in return._

Karkat obviously notices him tensing up, starting to panic again, because he hastily resumes shooshing. 

“Fuck, just ignore me, I don’t know why I expect you to act like a troll just because you look like one right now. I’m sorry. It's just...it would help if you could explain why you’re uncomfortable. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

He’s so soothing and so kind, it’s the side of Karkat that Dave’s only seen a few times; when Karkat has brought him terrible coffee when he’s been moping, or sought him out when he wanted to sleep forever, so he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone. Karkat keeps it so guarded, this deep affection within him. Dave can empathize with that. 

He takes a deep breath and tries to articulate the mess of twisting emotions inside his chest. “It’s just, all of this pale and red and black stuff, why do those have to be separate feelings? Why is this body telling me it’s so wrong to want to hug someone and kiss them and also maybe…piss them off a little…” 

Dave freezes solid as he feels Karkat holding his breath behind him. _Shit, shit, shit_ , he repeats inside his head, _it was really fucking obvious who I was talking about_. Karkat isn’t speaking, isn’t doing anything, so Dave twists around to face him. Karkat looks like he’s been slapped. 

“Shit, dude, I mean, like…hypothetically.” It isn’t fooling anyone. The blush creeping up his neck isn’t helping either. 

Karkat swallows, staring intently at Dave. 

“You feel that way about…someone?” 

_He’s not pushing me away_ , Dave thinks, desperately. _He’s not flipping out or shoving me off him in disgust. Why isn’t he freaking out when I basically just admitted I’m some kind of quadrant-blurring sicko over him?_ There doesn’t seem like much point in trying to lie about it anymore. 

“Well, yeah. Obviously. I, uh…I know I’m not the best at showing it.” 

Dave squirms uncomfortably, wishing that Karkat would just say something, even if it was telling him to fuck off. He averts his gaze behind his shades, because Karkat’s eyes are boring into his soul. 

“I just…look, all of this moirails shit is really nice, I mean it’s fucking amazing, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. For you, I mean. I’m just going to fuck it up. I can’t keep all of the stupid quadrants straight in my head, and it’s fucking killing me.” 

He feels Karkat tense up, sees his eyes widen. Dave is sure he’s just ruined things until Karkat chokes out a reply. 

“Fuck. This is all my fault.” 

“What?” Dave replies, confused, “What the hell are you talking about, man?” 

He’s used to Karkat blaming himself for stuff he didn’t do, but deciding it’s his fault that Dave is fucked up inside it totally beyond his usual self-loathing. It’s ridiculous. 

“Dude, chill, it’s probably just because I was human until, like, five minutes ago. I still am, at least mentally. I didn’t learn about the squawkbeasts and the bees back in troll kindergarten, so this shit is totally new to me.” He pauses for breath, trying and failing to think of something helpful to say, “you had bees, right? There’s no Alternian word for em’? I’m sure I remember you saying Sollux had hella bees for some reason. Whatever, I can call them buzzbugs or honeycritters or something if it’ll make you feel better.” 

Dave clamps down on the babbling torrent of words, but he feels a little better when he sees Karkat roll his eyes with frustration. It means he didn’t completely break his friend when he smacked him over the head with a metric ton of emotional baggage. 

“Yes, Dave, we had bees. I have no fucking idea what the rest of that idiotic deluge of words was supposed to mean.” 

Karkat looks down at his claws, starting to pick at the rough edge of one of them. 

“I…this is my fault. All of it. I made your species, remember? You’ve even got my nauseating blood running through your veins. It makes sense that you’d all be just as fucked up about romance. It’s no wonder you’ve been sending mixed signals since day one. I didn’t just give your universe cancer; I infected your whole species with my abhorrant quadrant problems.” 

Dave laughs, amused at the idea of Karkat as his inept, accidental creator. That concept never stops being hilarious. 

“Karkat, man, humans don’t have quadrants. Trust me, human romance is nowhere near as complicated. You just find someone you like enough, and bam, you mutually agree to fuck and cuddle and mess with each other as much as you want. If that makes both of you happy then you just stick with that person, and you call it love. If humanity dodged the quadrant bullet because you got handed the frog duties, then thank fuck for that. It’s not a ‘romance problem’, it’s the best gift you could have given us.” 

It’s Karkat’s turn to laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. He’s not convinced. Dave reaches out to touch his face, softly. That’s what trolls do, he thinks, when they want to calm each other down. He expects to see Karkat relax; instead, he shudders, leaning into Dave's touch. 

On impulse, Dave leans forward and kisses Karkat softly, feeling the vertiginous swoop inside his stomach that happens when he crosses a quadrant boundary. It’s not exactly the same as before, the sick feeling is more like excitement than disgust. It’s hesitant and chaste, but Karkat presses into Dave’s lips, returning the kiss with more affection than Dave thought possible. When he pulls back, he’s surprised to see tears rolling down Karkat’s cheeks. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Dave blurts out, panicking, “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Karkat shakes his head, wipes away the tears with his sleeve. 

“No, moron. I’m not upset. It’s just…It’s never been OK before. To want someone in more than one quadrant. To fucking want _you_ and have you actually…want me back. It’s going to take me a minute.” 

Dave pulls him in close, feeling the pale eclipse the red in his chest with another lurch. Or, not replace it exactly, but push it below the surface. It’s never going to truly disappear, he realizes. He’s always going to feel every-which-way about Karkat, the guy does things to his head and his heart that he has no idea how to cope with. The way that Karkat’s body nestles so perfectly against his own gives Dave hope, though. Maybe they can figure this shit out together. 

The moment is perfect and he doesn’t want to ruin it, but there’s something he has to know. 

“Karkat,” He begins, thinking carefully about what he’s going to say for once, “why does it feel so weird to mix it up quadrantwise? I mean, I was confused about liking you before - Dave hears Karkat murmur a muffled “No shit” into his shoulder - but this is some next-level mindfuckery.” 

Karkat sighs, shifting in his arms. Dave figures now would be a good time to try the horn-rubbing trick, and it works almost _too_ well. He has to nudge the puddle of troll with his shoulder to remind him he has a question to answer. 

“There are different blood-message chemicals for each of the quadrants,” he mutters, sleepily, “they’re supposed to neutralize each other, so you only feel one way at a time. There’s a shift in the equilibrium when vacillation happens, which can be pretty confusing.” 

Dave thinks about that, mentally lining up ‘blood-message chemicals’ with hormones. That obviously isn’t how his not-quite-troll-body works, however. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that happening. I kinda feel at least two at once right now. I think I got stuck in vacillation mode.” 

That seems to have been the right thing to say, because suddenly Karkat is nipping affectionately at his neck and the sick feeling in his stomach is totally forgotten. He can feel Karkat’s fangs against his skin as he smiles. 

“You get used to it,” he purrs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is porn, you guys. Exit after the second page break if you aren't into that! :D

Dave's second night of troll-dreaming is less traumatic than the first, but it's still an experience, to say the least. Mostly he encounters numerous doomed Daves in the bubbles who look at him with disgust on their blank faces. It takes a Strider to recognize when another Strider is about to lose his lunch, and Dave is sick of seeing eyebrows leaping upward and lips twisting imperceptibly when he crosses paths with himself. A few dead Roses don't make the experience any more fun, since they all seem to find his condition _fascinating_. The worst is the solitary ghostly Karkat, who flinches with repulsion. He doesn't even stop to chat. The whole experience leaves Dave feeling cold and hollow, an unwanted shadow of his former self.

It's Dave's turn to wake up alone this time, roused by the sound of his phone buzzing on Karkat’s side-table. His sleep was far from dreamless, but the absence of anything wriggling in his boxers means he skipped the nightly session of unwanted dream-hentai. He’s cold and Karkat’s not here, but he forces himself not to panic until he’s checked his phone, or at least given Karkat five minutes to get back from the load-gaper. The phone buzzes again, demanding attention.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

CG: I’VE GONE TO GET SOME FOOD, SINCE APPERENTLY YOU WON’T FUCKING WAKE UP NO MATTER HOW POLITELY I YELL AT YOU TO GET OFF ME.   
CG: ALSO, YOU SNORE.  
CG: INCREDIBLY LOUDLY.  
CG: I’M SURPRISED YOU DON’T KEEP THE ENTIRE METEOR AWAKE WITH THE DEAFENING REVERBERATIONS COMING FROM YOUR INHALATION CHANNELS.   
CG: ANYWAY, STAY FUCKING PUT THIS TIME.  
CG: I SWEAR TO GOD, DAVE.  
CG: IF YOU’RE GONE WHEN I GET BACK, THERE WON’T BE ENOUGH OF YOU LEFT TO OCCUPY ANY OF MY QUADRANTS BY THE TIME I'M FINISHED WITH YOU.  
CG: I PREFER MY RETRIBUTION SERVED SLOW, PAINFUL AND MESSY.  
CG: NOT EVEN GAMZEE WILL FIND THE PIECES.  
CG: <>  
CG:   
CG: <3

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

Dave hears the quiet, contented rumbling in his chest before he realizes it’s happening, but he doesn’t care. There’s nothing to care about right now, since he spent the rest of yesterday curled up in Karkat’s arms, in front of one movie after another that neither of them were watching. Up until now, kissing had never featured much in his adolescent fantasies, except as part of something considerably hotter and heavier. With Karkat, though, the added sensation of flipping back and forth between the pale and red quadrants had made it…delicious. The swooping lurch in his stomach had started to feel more like the first drop of a rollercoaster, a mix of excitement and pure joy replacing something that should make him feel sick. All because Karkat had told him it was OK. That it didn’t matter that he was screwed up in every conceivable way, because Karkat was too.

 _Surprising no-one_ , Dave thinks, with a snort. _Holy shit,_ he muses, stretching his back out luxuriantly; _I am the kinkiest excuse for a troll out there, all because I want to kiss and cuddle the same dude. All the literal squares on this rock would blow their think-pans if they got a gander at this candyfloss-pink action. Maybe I should put on a schoolgirl outfit next time, because this is kawaii as fuck._

Dave is so incredibly relaxed that he doesn’t even flinch when the door swishes open, accompanied by something that smells amazing. Karkat is trying to conceal a grin as he sees Dave sprawled across his mattress, a mess of lanky limbs and tousled hair. He doesn’t even have his shades on, Dave realizes, although there’s not much point in hiding his eyes or his expressions anymore. Instead of trying to keep a straight face, Dave grins like a lovestruck idiot when Karkat dumps a plate down onto his chest.

“Dude, you brought me breakfast in bed? You are the sappiest motherfucker, Karkat. Don't ever change.”

Karkat's grin breaks free as he flips Dave off and perches on the end of the bed. Sitting up, Dave assesses the contents of the plate, which looks like a cross between meatloaf and bread. It seems to be toasted, and covered in something sticky.

“Not that I'm complaining about the five-star room-service, man, but what the hell is this stuff? It sure as hell isn't bacon and eggs.”

Karkat's face is a picture of amusement as he delicately licks some of the sticky residue from his own breakfast off one finger. Dave tries his best to pretend that isn't hot.

"It's toasted grubloaf, Dave. Trolls don't eat burned mammal flesh and surplus cluckbeast ova like shitsniffing animals."

Dave wrinkles his nose; on one hand, fucking _gross_ , he's got no idea what the hell is in 'grubloaf' but it's extremely likely to be grubs. Dave is acutely aware that Trolls refer to their young as 'grubs', so as far as he knows this could be grilled baby-loaf. On the other, the smell of this stuff is making his stomach growl with desire.

"Karkat, please tell me this isn't a hot slice of cannibalism. I might be an asshole, but I don't think I can bring myself to eat toasted troll-grub."

A few seconds later, Dave is slapping Karkat's back to try and stop his monumental coughing fit. Karkat looks daggers at him out of a face like a stop-light, clearly unimpressed by the accusation that his species eats its own young as a snack.

"Fuck you, you 100% certified asshole. Why the fuck would we eat Troll grubs, you depraved, nooklicking imbecile? That makes fuck-all sense, not to mention being the most disgusting, rancid bulge-louse shit you've ever vomited from your ramblechute. Even if you wanted to flip pitch on me, Strider, that would be going too fucking far. It’s made out of fucking meal-grubs, which is much less repellent than the concept of frying up mammal organs and ingesting the cremated remains, as your deviant species is so fond of doing."

Dave fumbles to recover, to get back behind the conversational line he just crossed. Feeling like an ungrateful prick is not a pleasant sensation.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, OK? I don’t know any of this shit. Look, I’m eating it; I don’t care what kind of bug remains it’s made out of.”

He shoves a piece of the stuff into his face, forcing himself to concentrate on the appealing smell. It tastes good, predictably; the loaf has a sort of nutty taste with a pleasingly bitter undertone. The texture is mealy rather than meaty, thankfully. Whatever the topping is, it’s sweet and sticky, and all in all, it rocks.

“Goddamn. This is better than pop-tarts.” Dave doesn’t try to hide his surprise. He hadn’t counted on alien bug-loaf surpassing his favourite breakfast treat.

Karkat is back to looking smug as he finishes eating, cleaning all of his fingers slowly this time and watching Dave’s uncovered eyes fixate on his mouth. _I am so fucked_ , Dave thinks, _Vantas is some kind of romance sorcerer after studying all of those movies and books. I don’t stand a fucking chance against this level of sexual voodoo._ Karkat is laughing knowingly again as he watches Dave’s blood re-locate to his cheeks.

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, Dave. I’m going to go and use the ablution-trap, since you apparently suffer from multiple forms of mouth-incontinence and have been drooling into my hair all night. It looks like drooling is becoming a habit of yours.”

Dave watches Karkat grab a towel and head for the bathroom. Unfortunately, it’s across the hall and not attached to the room, or he’d be tempted to follow just to annoy Karkat/catch a glimpse of him in the shower. Bumping into little-miss ‘I’m always skulking around like a total busybody creeper’ Serket would effectively take a shit all over this morning’s haze of contentment. Dave doesn’t think he can remember being this happy since he opened the box containing his Ben Stiller shades. There’s certainly more potential for messing with Karkat if he stays put, especially as the realization has just dawned that he didn’t take any fresh clothes with him. Either he’s coming back in his noticeably un-drool-stained pyjamas (unlikely), or wrapped in a towel (holy fuck). Naked and damp and wrapped in a fucking towel. Dave’s mind blanks out for a few seconds, before rebooting with a brand-new favorite desktop wallpaper.

\----------------------------------

Karkat forces himself to relax as the water runs over him, enjoying the pitter-patter of drops on his horns. _He’ll still be there_ , he tells himself; _Dave will still be there when I go back. If I wasn’t fucking obvious enough when I went for a shower, there’s something wrong with his think-pan_. There’s only so long he can shower for, repeating his mantra over and over ( _he’ll still be there or he’s dead_ ), before the room is like a sauna and he knows he’ll have to face the music. The music presumably being the heavy bass and cheesy sinusoidal blow-horns of something he would have scrambled to turn off if his lusus walked in while he was watching it.

‘Body conscious’ doesn’t even begin to describe Karkat’s feelings toward himself, and he winces a little as he looks in the mirror. His eyes flick over all of the things he hates, scars all over both forearms from sucking bulge at sickle-wielding, the puckered gash in his side where some shiny-black bastard stabbed him. Those wouldn’t be so bad if he could actually put on some mass, but his mutant furnace of a body burns through the calories he consumes and leaves him just as short and wiry as always. Karkat is still a sweep or two away from ditching his adolescent husk and maturing into an adult, and it sucks. Fuck everyone for being taller or stronger or more of a badass than he is. At least Strider is still as scrawny-thin in his troll-body, for all that every inch of him is toned and he moves with a lanky kind of grace. _Dave’s almost as thin as Sollux_ , Karkat thinks, _which suggests I have something of a type. Pitiful, smart-mouthed assholes, specifically._

 _Still_ , he thinks, lifting his chin to the mirror and examining his irises for traces of red, _Dave seems to want to be something, red or pale or whatever-the-fuck else. He wants me, not anyone else, although admittedly there aren’t really a lot of options for him, trapped out here in the ass-end of existence. And we’re good, so good together, better than I even dared to imagine. Maybe this won’t be a disaster. Stranger fucking things have happened than Karkat Vantas eventually catching a break_. Karkat keeps his head held high with hope as he walks back to his room, towel around his waist and pump-biscuit in his mouth.

\----------------------------------

Dave has to restrain himself from leaping out of the bed when he hears the door opening, his mind and heart overclocked by the thought of what’s about to walk through it. He stays put, stays chill (at least externally), as Karkat shuffles in, one hand clutching a towel around his waist like he’s changed his mind about this being a good idea. Dave feels himself smiling, sees the edge of a fang creep over Karkat’s lower lip, and he knows they’re both turning red. The message is clear when Karkat stands up straight and puffs out his chest a little; ‘this is me, asshole. Take it or leave it.’ Dave wants to take all of it, right here and right now.

Karkat flinches a little when Dave stands and strides towards him, and again when Dave wraps slender arms around him. Dave can’t take any more; any time that isn’t spent kissing Karkat is an affront to his aspect that will not be tolerated. He hoists Karkat up by his ass so that his legs can wrap around Dave’s waist, and sighs as their lips meet. This isn’t the rose-petals and chocolates, pale-pink kissing of the night before, this is hot and desperate and needy. Dave needs Karkat, needs to pull him shower-damp down onto the bed, and needs to throw that towel as far away as possible. He grins against Karkat’s mouth as he does so, feeling the exasperated nip of Karkat’s fangs when he slaps his bare ass affectionately. Dave doesn’t get long to savour the feeling of Karkat crouching naked and hungry over him while he’s still basically fully dressed, because his shirt is gone before he can catch his breath. Not that Dave cares, because the fiery, gorgeous creature on top of him is trailing kisses from his jaw down to his collarbone. Dave makes a strange mixture of clicks and warbles in appreciation, only half aware that he’s doing so, and Karkat’s replying noises set a fire going in his stomach.

Dave loses himself in the fevered sensation of Karkat’s skin against his, his hands tangled in the other troll’s still-wet hair. When Karkat presses claws to the base of his horn and _squeezes_ , there’s definite movement in his boxers and Dave _groans_ low and long as his bulge slips out between the two protecting plates of flesh-covered bone. It’s a blissful release for all of three seconds, before it starts questing desperately for friction. _The boxers need to go_ , Dave thinks, _right fucking now_. Karkat obviously has the same idea, because he hooks his claws under the waistband and deftly removes them, his mouth still fastened possessively to Dave’s.

Dave’s mind melts into butter when he feels Karkat shudder in his hands and sees his bulge emerge. It’s a little shorter than his, a little thicker, but it’s also a hell of a lot more skillful. The searing pleasure as it wraps itself around Dave’s own bulge is enough to make him forget to breathe.

“Fuck, Karkat. Just…fuck.”

Karkat laughs, relaxed and unselfconscious, as Dave struggles for words. He can’t get his mind in order with Karkat stroking his chest like this, with his orange and grey eyes half-lidded, with his perfect ass perched on Dave’s thighs. Sometimes even Striders are lost for words. Karkat leans down and kisses him again, hard and long and heavy, his tongue meeting Dave’s with the same passion as his bulge is showing to Dave’s own. When they both need to breathe, Dave sucks and nips at Karkat’s neck, pulls him close with hands wrapped around his horns. Karkat trills softly with pleasure, and it’s the best noise that Dave has ever heard. He could do this for hours, he thinks, if his bulge didn’t have other ideas.

An embarrassing whine slips from Dave’s throat as he feels Karkat untangle himself, because he’d been close, goddamnit. At the same time, he hadn’t been, and it had been frustrating as fuck, but it was better than nothing. He starts to complain just as Karkat threads his fingers around Dave’s bulge, which probably accounts for the mess that comes tumbling out of his mouth.

“What gives, man? I was really fucking…into that…you gorgeous motherfucking…bastard…”

His voice deserts him as Karkat leans in close and whispers in his ear, his breath warm against Dave’s neck.

“What gives is that I’m going to fuck you, Strider.”

Dave shudders, feeling excitement sending fluttering pulses into the area behind his bulge that he’s been ignoring the fuck out of. Having a tentacle for a dick, he can almost cope with. Having a…a nook, that’s something else completely. Karkat looks at him, feels the way he’s stopped responding to the kisses on his neck.

“Dave, shit, are you OK? I was just trying to be…you know…romantic. Sorry.”

Karkat's smooth operator persona disintegrates, leaving behind a nervous teenager wearing nothing but a frown. Dave grabs at the nearest words to try and articulate himself before he starts blaming himself.

“No, fuck, dude, you don’t need to be sorry. That…this is the hottest fucking thing, I couldn’t have even imagined feeling this good. My meagre human imagination would have blown a fuse at what you’re doing to me, man. What you said…Karkat, I want you to fuck me so _bad_.”

Karkat blushes redder than a tomato.

“It’s just…I didn’t used to have a nook, OK? The idea of doing anything with it is, I dunno, it’s new I guess. Still crazy hot though, and I didn’t say I wanted to stop…just be gentle or whatever.”

Karkat nods, and Dave can see a mixture of emotions fighting for dominance on his face: disbelief that Dave trusts him enough to do this, arousal at the feeling of Dave laid out underneath him, and something else, something dreamy-soft and happy. It’s _pity_ , Dave realizes, Karkat pities him. He’s pretty sure his own eyes are mirrors for that particular feeling, even without his shades. Like this, Karkat is breathtaking.

Karkat almost flips pale on him as he gently hooks Dave’s legs over his shoulders, rising up until he's kneeling and Dave can feel the warm press of Karkat’s bulge against him. The position isn’t the most comfortable, his neck will probably hurt later, but right now he doesn’t care. Although he’s down with mixing up the quadrants, the way Karkat’s claws are resting so gently on his hips isn’t doing anything for him. He wants the troll who was so desperate and needy he let Dave strip him without giving up a stitch of clothing in return.

“I said gentle, man, not pale. What happened to the I'm-going-to-fuck-you Karkat? I liked that guy, he was fucking hot.”

Karkat grins, some of that wicked intensity creeping back into his eyes, and he strokes Dave’s bulge slowly with one claw. Dave’s back arches involuntarily, and he’s fairly sure the whining chirr in the back of his throat translates as _touchmetouchmetouchmeforfuckssaketouchme_. Before he has time to relax, he feels Karkat’s bulge probing gently into his nook, and it feels fucking weird, but mostly, it feels fucking _good_. His alien junk seems to know what it’s doing, because it draws Karkat flush against him, pulling in as much of him as will fit.

A breathless “Shiiiiiiiit” is pretty much the only thing that Dave can articulate right now, because his brain is out to lunch in the next galaxy over. He’s on cloud nine, on the fucking moon, on a bed on a meteor flying through nowhere space with an alien crotch-tentacle inside him. It feels incredible.

Karkat is still grinning, giving him a little ‘I know something you don’t know, shitstain’ look, when he wraps a hand around Dave’s bulge and guides it between his own legs. Angels in sunglasses blow auto-tuned trumpets inside Dave’s mind as he realizes the full possibilities of having a long, flexible sexual appendage instead of a stiff, immobile one. When his bulge slips inside Karkat, he knows he’s going to lose it soon. Very soon. Karkat’s claws are digging into his hips, and he’s on him and in him, and with an unfocused look into Dave’s eyes, he starts to flick that bulge of his, searching for a particular spot.

Dave _screams_ when he finds it, an incoherent stream of noise that mostly means _yesgodyes_ as his back arches, his eyes squeezed shut. Karkat gets the message, rolling and pressing against the place inside Dave with a rhythm that pulverizes his self control. Looking up at Karkat crouching over him and folding Dave almost in half, his wild hair sticking to his forehead, makes Dave want to return the feeling with interest. Karkat looks so good, feels so good, deserves to feel like the holy angel of fucking that he is. Dave feels his own bulge jerking spasmodically inside Karkat, uncoordinated and inexperienced, but he tries hard to mimic the motions that Karkat is making. He's rewarded with a hot rush of pride when he feels Karkat’s legs turn to jelly as he groans with pleasure, mouthing at Dave’s inner thigh. Inevitably, Dave comes first, his hips rolling up _into_ Karkat and _onto_ his bulge even as he quietly gasps out his name. That sends Karkat crashing over the edge with a strangled growl, and Dave can tell he’s biting back expletives that would make most people's ears burn. He makes a note to tell Karkat to cut that shit out, he wants to hear every nonsensical swearword that tumbles out of his brain.

Karkat separates them with a wet sliding sound as he sits back into a kneeling position, panting and cursing under his breath. Dave feels his neck and hips begin to ache as he removes his legs from Karkat’s shoulders, admiring the view between them as he does so. Karkat is _wrecked_ , and Dave is fucking proud to see him so soft and satisfied. _So that’s what he looks like_ , Dave thinks, _when he’s been well and truly fucked. It’s way better than I imagined._

Dave is all set to take a one-way trip to don’t-give-a-fucksville and just chill out in his birthday suit all day when he feels an insistent pressing in his abdomen, a sensation like needing to pee but a thousand times more intense. _Shit_ , he thinks, _I came alright, but nothing actually came out_. He starts to panic a little until Karkat uncapchalogues a bucket and thrusts it toward him. The whole bucket deal makes a lot more sense when his bulge releases at the mere sight of it. Most of it goes in the bucket. _Karkat’s going to make me pay for the shit that went all over his bed_ , he muses, _but at least I know he accepts Strider nook as currency._

Karkat turns his back on Dave as he uses the bucket, and Dave wonders if it’s some kind of kink or perversion to blow your load in front of your sex partner. He doesn’t give a fuck if he got it wrong, though, because staring at Karkat’s ass is hardly a punishment. And besides, all of those rad-as-fuck angels are playing sweet halleluiahs in his think pan as the afterglow takes hold. When Karkat has shoved the bucket out of sight at the foot of the bed, Dave grabs him and pulls him into a full-on snuggle. There will be no more moving now, only hugs and gazing dreamily at each other like a pair of fucking Disney characters. Dave only has one question for his matesprit/palebro:

“So, how long have you been carrying a bucket for me, Vantas? I’m touched, dude.”

Karkat sticks out his tongue between perfect fangs.

“Since yesterday, assmuffin. There’s no way you’ll prove otherwise.”

Dave doesn’t need any proof, the answer is written all over Karkat’s satisfied face. This thing between them has been a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to NothingSoDivine for proofing this chapter. If you like this chapter you will go nuts for her excellent fic, [Exploring](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4454486).  
> Also, there's now some awesome fanart of Dave by nyankit.[Go check it out :D](http://nyankit.deviantart.com/art/Dont-Tap-The-Glass-Dave-583678308)
> 
> Story's not over btw - Dave's still a troll and what's up with that? Sounds like it might be bad for the timeline to me...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interim chapter here, guys. Just some pesterlogs etc :)
> 
> Sorry if it's a little sucky. More Dave'n'Karks next chapter.

Rose surveys the console with a studied eye, and concludes that she has no idea how the fuck it works. The tubes and buttons suggest an ectobiology function, but the only labels are written in an unfamiliar, untranslatable script. Following the tubes attached to the shadowy ceiling had led their intrepid science-team to a room filled with platforms and tanks, but none of them could even hazard a guess at how to make them work. Terezi had sniffed the machinery enthusiastically, Kanaya had drawn a series of diagrams, and Rose had poked at buttons. Vriska had examined her nails and sent pieces of litter echoing into the corners with the toe of her boot until Terezi yelled at her to stop. Rose could honestly say that they made quite the team, all four of them identically clueless. Button mashing had produced a lot of what were presumably error messages, before the input machinery had shut itself down in protest. 

“I suppose we should let Dave know the news. Barring some kind of miracle, we’re going to struggle to reverse the transformation.” 

Terezi frowns, her blank eyes settling on Rose. Rose can feel her stare through the red plastic, and she knows that Terezi 'sees' just fine without them. They both do, in different ways. Rose sees the threads of timelines stretching ahead of them, sees them winking out one by one. Terezi most likely sees something similar; Rose imagines it as a branching maze of decisions, outcomes becoming obvious to her before the choice has even been made. They both know that this timeline is in trouble. Rose can see it wavering, its lifeline flickering in her mind’s eye. If Dave reaches the new session as a troll, they’re all destined to die. Rose suspects that Terezi can probably see whatever mistake he’ll make; fighting in an unfamiliar body will somehow get him or someone else killed. After that, the rest of their timeline will collapse into blood, death and carnage. 

Rose sighs and brushes the dust from her robes, although it does a fat lot of good down here. A part of her longs to be clean again, to get out of these dead laboratories and back to her pillow-filled room. At least Kanaya is here to light her way. Taking hold of Kanaya’s hand causes her skin to glow even brighter, just for a second, and Rose smiles at the thought that so simple a touch can excite her. 

A loud huff from one corner announces Vriska's intent to elbow her way back into the center of attention. She heaves herself up from her sulking position, half-slumped against a wall. 

“Are we fiiiiiiiinally done here, Lalonde? From what I can see, ‘science’ means a bunch of losers aimlessly poking around. Let’s go already; some of us have important shit to do.” 

The over-pronounced edge to Vriska’s words lets everyone know that she’s bluffing, she had absolutely nothing important to do today except trail around after Terezi. In Rose’s professional opinion, all of her swagger and bravado of late is nothing but a transparent bluff to hide her insecurities. Vriska has been thrust into the role of de-facto leader in the coming battle, and Rose has seen the flash of fear in her eyes even as she orders everyone around. As much as they all need her, Vriska is becoming unbearably _Vriska_ as the new session approaches, and only Terezi seems to be able to calm her down. Rose breathes a sigh of relief when Terezi grasps Vriska’s hand and pulls her toward the exit, noting the way Vriska’s shoulders relax. Hopefully, the pale contact will hold her until they get back, because Rose is in no mood for another loud diatribe about how boring and dull and unworthy of exploration this place is, especially in comparison with the literal planet of treasure that Vriska left behind in her session. 

Rose wearily opens a pesterlog, praying that Dave and Karkat haven’t killed each other while they were left unsupervised. Kanaya seemed to think it was OK to leave them alone; in fact, she’d laughed when Rose had commented on how tense things seemed to be between them. Kanaya had hinted that the tension might be romantic in nature, but hadn’t gone so far as to specify a quadrant. Rose fervently hopes she won’t find the grisly remains of a failed kismessitude all over the common area. 

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Hello Dave, I hope you’re feeling better today.  
TT: In the sense that you’ve recovered from the change in species, I mean.  
TT: It must be jarring, but you seemed to be taking it in your stride, so to speak.  
TG: sup rose   
TG: yeah its all good in the hood   
TG: feeling a lot trollier than yesterday   
TG: at this rate ill be ready to yell your ear off about bulges while licking your face and rolling dice to determine how much blood to suck out of you by the end of the week   
TG: probably need to chill in the fucking vents with some gross soda after that   
TG: trolls are so normal rose   
TG: how did we never see it before   
TT: Yes, truly they are a species composed entirely of sane individuals with perfect manners.  
TT: It’s no wonder you’ve been having trouble fitting in.  
TG: dang rose which one of us is the troll here   
TT: Culture shock aside, has everything been OK in our absence?  
TG: absence   
TG: who was gone for how long   
TT: Dave, literally everyone you know aside from Karkat and Gamzee has been scouring the bowels of the meteor for the ectobiology equipment needed to change you back.  
TT: Since yesterday afternoon.  
TT: Did you honestly not notice we were gone?  
TG: uh yeah sorry   
TG: been watching movies with karkat pretty much the whole time  
TG: dude you should have asked us to come along   
TG: im feeling pretty bad that you had to spend all that time in serkets company on my account  
TG: not to mention its creepy as fuck down there   
TG: why didnt you say something we coulda been a mystery solving sibling duo like in all those shitty novels they make you read at elementary school  
TG: the supersleuth strilondes  
TG: in the search for the species swapping substance   
TT: I think I may have just suffered an assonance overload  
TG: damn i need to turn that into an innuendo   
TG: but its too close to being one already  
TG: confound you rose   
TT: We thought you could use a rest, Dave. Changing species seems like it would be tiring.  
TG: thanks man   
TG: i guess its more confusing than tiring but much appreciated   
TG: did you find the gooificator or whatever dumb name the game calls it   
TT: Yes and no. I'll tell you more in person.  
TT: Anyway, I assume everything is now fine between you and Karkat?   
TG: yeah why   
TG: whos asking   
TG: were broing it up to the max over here   
TG: where doing this man   
TT: Interesting.   
TT: Kanaya was concerned that Karkat may try to ‘make it hapen’ between the two of you, so to speak.  
TT: She seems to think there were sparks flying before we left.  
TG: what   
TG: are you impugning the honor of my shiny new bulge rose   
TG: implying ive been getting my mack on with my best bro like some sort of alien hussy   
TG: for shame  
TT: I wasn’t before.   
TT: I think I am now.   
TT: Did you forget that there are non-sexual quadrants, Dave?  
TT: It’s interesting that you jumped straight to what I assume is the flushed quadrant. Very interesting...   
TG: rose no  
TG: put your extendable gossip gathering organ back in its sheath and sit on it   
TT: Wow.  
TT: Troll Sigmund Freud’s dead ears are pricking up from across the light years, Dave.  
TT: And his conclusion is that you’ve been doing some sexual experimentation.   
TG: im a teenager with a rockin new set of junk  
TG: what do you expect  
TG: a little self expression never hurt anyone   
TT: I’m proud, Dave. Something, or rather someone, has finally aroused your dormant scientific curiosity.   
TG: solo mission rose  
TG: not bromo mission  
TT: Of course.  
TT: Whatever you say. I assume you expect me to ignore all of the time you've spent ogling your "best bro" of late?  
TT: The same "bro" that you just admitted to spending the last twenty-four hours with.  
TT: Alone. Watching romance movies.  
TG: for once can we just pretend every conversation we have doesnt devolve into you implying that i wish i had a dong in my mouth at all times and move on  
TG: blah blah freud blah blah dave sucks big wiggly bulges blah blah blah spending all day reading karkats shitty romance novels apparently makes me a qualified psychologist blah blah  
TG: just because were talking alien dicks now doesnt mean we need to rehash the whole semi incestuous dealio   
TT: How romantic.  
TT: Karkat is a lucky young man.  
TG: k imma go then  
TG: since the dave in your imagination apparently has hella makeouts to get on with  
TG: id hate to keep him and imaginary karkat from their tongue wrestling session  
TG: im not so low id stop the poor idiot you picture me as from getting some sweet mind action  
TT: Hang on, Dave.  
TT: Before we got sidetracked talking about your inevitable downward slide into Karkat's loving embrace, I did have a point.  
TG: really  
TG: theres a first time for everything i guess  
TT: We need to hold a group meeting when we return.   
TG: yeah?  
TG: that sounds completely non ominous  
TT: We'll be back soon. Don't worry about it until then.   
TT: Give Karkat a kiss from me.   
TG: stfu  
TT: Kanaya would like me to pass on the message "Slip Him The Tongue".   
TG: liar  
TT: You got me, well done.   
TT: Nothing gets past you, does it?   
TG: damn straight  
TT: Yes, Dave. Straight. Of course.  
TT: See you soon. I'm glad you're feeling better.   
TT: About everything.   


tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angstening is upon us.

For once, Karkat actually wishes Dave could conceal his emotions. Around the table, the others are occupied with their argument, but Karkat can’t stop staring at the way Dave is curling in on himself, his brows drawn into a deep frown. Compared with his usual composed façade or the way he’d grinned like a lunatic earlier this afternoon, sloshing the nauseating contents of their mutual bucket infuriatingly as he’d toted it to the ablution chamber, this new expressiveness is painful to watch. Karkat would be lying if he said that Dave’s unfamiliarity with his new facial muscles hasn’t worked in his favor up until now, allowing him a glimpse of the vulnerable, damaged person behind the ironic mask, but right now it’s making him feel sick. It looks as though someone is twisting a knife in Dave’s gut, and the pain is amplified by the fact that his own sister is wielding the metaphorical blade. 

Karkat feels his control over his barely-suppressed rage slipping as Rose calmly relates the findings of their expedition. Her level, measured tone as she explains that their timeline is on the brink of catastrophe, that they'll all perish in the final showdown unless Dave’s humanity can be restored, makes him want to explode in her stupid, serene face. How dare she act so implacable as she breaks Dave into tiny pieces, all but laying the blame for dooming them at his feet? And sure, Karkat will admit that it probably is Dave’s fault, but the solution that Rose is proposing seems to be tearing him apart. 

“We have no choice in the matter. The writing on the machines isn’t English or Alternian, it’s some sort of Sburb-specific code. It’s beyond any of our skills to both translate the language and figure out how to use the machine, and if we fail in our efforts then it could potentially kill Dave. Fiddling around with dangerous machinery that we don’t understand is not a viable course of action; if Dave dies, there will be no-one left to salvage the timeline by excising the past few days. He'll have to go back and prevent this transformation from happening in the first place.” 

The look that passes between Rose and Dave is heavy with meaning, and Karkat realizes he was wrong to paint Rose as an emotionless ice-queen; for a second he thinks she might burst into tears. The familiar steel in her gaze quickly rises to the surface, defying anyone at the table to call attention to her moment of weakness. Nobody feels like pushing her today. 

“I’m sorry, Dave.” Her apology is an admission of defeat. She failed. 

Dave nods, staring down at his lap where his hands are clenching tightly to one another, yellow claws pressing into grey flesh. Karkat reaches out to stop him from gouging himself, and the way that Dave catches his hand in an iron-hard grip brings home just how upset he is. There’s no way Dave would be grasping tightly to Karkat in a room full of people who’ve been gently tormenting him by implying that they’re an 'item' if he wasn’t desperate for comfort. 

“It’s OK,” he lies. “It’s my fuckup. I have to fix it.” 

It’s been at least a full minute since Vriska had the limelight, and Karkat groans inwardly as she leaps to her feet. 

“Excuse you, but this all sounds loser talk to me. I’m pretty sure there’s a dead version of my moirail out there who worked her butt off to save this piece-of-shit timeline, and I’ll be damned if I'll hand the baton of responsibility to some alternate idiots with a less defective version of Strider. We are the alpha timeline, people! We don’t just roll over when it gets a little difficult!” 

Dave straightens a little in his seat, surprised by Vriska’s outburst. Karkat feels the grip on his hand tighten. Terezi stands and puts a hand on Vriska’s shoulder, gently easing her back into her seat. 

“I’ve seen the outcomes of all the decisions that we can make." She says, sadly. "None of them end up turning Dave into a human again. I’m sorry. The best thing we can do is to send him back.” 

She swallows and turns her blind eyes toward Dave, hesitating before she speaks to him. _Hardly surprising,_ Karkat thinks, _he looks as if he’d shatter if someone breathed on him too hard._

“What will happen to the timeline, Dave? If you go back and change things?” Karkat hasn’t heard her speak so softly in a long time. 

Dave shrugs and looks away into a dark corner of the room. His shades aren't enough to hide his discomfort, and he knows it. Rose comes to his rescue, re-taking control of the meeting. Karkat notices that Kanaya has shuffled her chair very close to Rose, and is worrying at her perfectly painted lower lip. Her concern for her matesprit is writ large in her green eyes. 

“I can answer that one, Terezi. I’ve already lived through it, after all. This timeline will simply collapse and merge with the new alpha timeline. Some of our memories will be preserved, some will be lost. I have no idea what happens to our individual consciousnesses, but from my memories of the process, it isn’t painful.” 

Vriska shoots her a look of pure scorn, and grumbles something about “loser bullshit,” before Terezi elbows her in the ribs. Karkat feels his face heat up when Rose fixes her gaze on him, and realizes they’re all probably wondering why he’s been so quiet. He pre-empts any probing from the meteor’s resident Gossip Squad by opening his mouth before they can. 

“I have no idea why you’re looking at me; I have a track record a mile long of making categorically terrible decisions, and I know none of you actually care what I think. It’s pretty fucking generous of you to make up Dave’s mind for him before he even gets a chance to speak, so why should anything I say make a goddamn difference? Personally, it sounds like we’re fucked either way." 

Looking at Dave, it’s obvious he can’t take much more, he’s on the edge of another panic attack and Karkat needs to get him out of here _now_. He scans the table as he stands up, pulling Dave up with him. He thinks on his feet, clutching for a reason to get Dave out of here. Pale concern seems as good an excuse as any. 

“Now, if you’ll fucking excuse us, my _moirail_ and I need to have a little chat about what _he’s_ going to do, with his _own_ life. We’ll be sure to keep you posted on which particular way we’re all going to hell in a goddamned handbasket.” 

Karkat leads Dave out of the room, almost quick-marching them to Dave’s respiteblock. When the door swishes shut behind them, Karkat pulls Dave into an embrace, pressing his face into the soft fabric of Dave’s shirt. The shuddering gasps wracking Dave’s body slowly abate as Karkat rubs his back, shooshing quietly. They both know everything isn’t going to be alright, but at least they’re together, just the two of them. When Dave can breathe again, Karkat sits him down gently on the bed. 

“Dave…I know you hate using your powers, but I feel like I’m missing something. I fucking hate the idea of this…of us…never even happening, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” 

Dave nods, avoiding Karkat’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” he rubs at one eye, pushing his shades up into his hair. His eyes are even redder than usual. “You guys'll forget, or you’ll remember, or whatever. I’ll just…stop existing. I’ll die, I guess.” 

Dave won't look at Karkat, and starts fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. Karkat can tell how badly Dave is hurting when he tries to make a joke. 

"And there I was thinking Davesprite got the shitty end of the timeline stick. Turns out there won't even be a kernalsprite to save my sorry ass, although Davetrollsprite would have been a badass. How's that for irony, huh?" 

Karkat feels his heart stop momentarily as fear and indignation flood his chest. Dave is contemplating sacrificing himself in order to save the rest of them, and there is no fucking way he's going to allow that. Not after all of the dead Daves already haunting this timeline. 

“No. That is not going to happen.” Karkat says it with more conviction than he’s ever felt. 

Dave looks up at him, imploring him to stop fighting, to stop beating his useless fists against the inevitable wall of bullshit barreling toward them. Karkat ignores him. After dodging certain death a thousand times over, the inevitable loses some of its bite. 

“Dude, there’s nothing we can do. You heard what TZ said, and when has Rose ever been wrong about anything?” 

Dave sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. Only a thin shock of white at his left temple remains, and Karkat is suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia for Dave’s old appearance. As thoroughly pitiable as Dave is in his troll form, it seems to be chipping away at his signature Strider swagger. It’s as if the newfound intensity of his emotions is breaking him down from the inside out. 

“I guess I’ll have to go back to my birthday...make sure I don’t get so goddamn drunk.” 

Karkat feels the words smash painfully into his think-pan. Dave doesn’t just want to reverse the transformation, he wants to erase _everything_ that’s happened between them, before and after. He feels cold all of a sudden. 

“Because that’ll solve all of your problems, right?” he retaliates, his words tinged with hurt and rage. “If we never…if you never _fucked me_ in the first place?” 

Dave looks shocked, as though Karkat hit him with more than just scorn. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, speechless. Karkat fills the silence for him. 

“I should have fucking known that _human_ Dave would be too good to have anything to do with scum like me, that you’d only consider any kind of actual _relationship_ with me if you got to play inter-species dress-up. This is all a fucking joke to you, and I’m the punchline. Ha fucking ha, Strider.” 

Karkat turns to leave, ready to storm out of the room. He really, really wants to just walk out on Dave and leave him to deal with his own shit for once. He hates that he knows he can’t. That his stupid pity-filled pump biscuit won't let him. Dave’s hand on his wrist saves him the trouble of pretending. 

“Karkat, man, that isn’t what I meant, you know that. I’m not going to say that I don’t regret what happened on my birthday…but not because of what it meant. I wish I'd had the stones to actually talk to you about the fact that I was a hundred percent desperate to get all up in your business, and not gotten both of us drunk as a shitty substitute for having the courage to own up to it. I’m not supposed to be into dudes, Karkat, do you have any idea what my Bro would have done if he’d have known I was having sexy thoughts about you? I have no fucking idea, but it would have hurt. A lot.” 

Dave’s voice cracks when he mentions his brother, and Karkat feels pity welling in his chest. _It isn’t fucking fair_ , he thinks, _Dave doesn’t just get to throw his tortured past in my face. We’ve all got one of those, you dumb fuck. Yours isn't any worse than mine._ A glance at Dave’s face reveals a picture of abject misery, and Karkat feels his resolve wavering. If there was ever a time that Dave needed his help, it's now. 

“And…I still feel like a piece of absolute shit for taking advantage of you, man. Just the worst. Having stupid drunk sex with you and then and walking out afterwards is hands down the most awful thing I've ever done. You were drunk because of me, and you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing. I never wanted it to be like that…between us. You know?” 

The dam of indignation in Karkat's chest breaks with a single look into Dave’s eyes. He’s hurting on so many levels, and Karkat just wants to shoosh him and hold him until all of the pain is washed away. Karkat sighs as he lowers himself onto the bed, a hand rubbing automatically at Dave’s back. 

“Dave, I don’t know how drunk you think I was, but it wasn’t so much that I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m not saying I was operating at full decision-making capacity, but I don’t regret it. I wanted you and I pitied you, and I was too tired to fight it anymore. If that was what it took to get you to finally admit that you're attracted to me, then I'm fucking glad it happened.” 

Dave sniffs, and Karkat realizes there are crimson tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Karkat pulls him into a gentle hug, holding Dave’s head against his chest. 

“Is that what’s happening now? Are you just too tired to be mad at me? God knows I’d fucking deserve it if you walked out and never spoke to me again.” His voice is muffled by Karkat’s shirt. 

“No, dumbass. You didn't do anything wrong. Adolescents are supposed to be able to make stupid mistakes without dooming an entire timeline full of people. None of this is fair.” Karkat replies, stroking the base of Dave's horn and running his fingers through his hair. 

Dave curls further into Karkat, clinging to him like a life-preserver. Dave still thinks he's going to leave, Karkat realizes, that he'll abandon him to suffer and cry all alone. _Just like he did when he was wiggler_ , Karkat thinks, _when his fucked-up human lusus was done screwing with him for the day. Maybe his past was slightly shittier than mine after all_. After a few minutes of Karkat making no move to escape, Dave relaxes a little and sits up, looking him in the eyes. 

“If you don’t regret what happened, and believe me, I was so fucking _terrified_ that you did and that you hated me for it deep down, then I don’t either. My Bro’s dead, you’re awesome, and being with you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If you still want anything to do with me now that you've seen behind the magical curtain and learned how much of a fuckup I am, we can just ride our hoofbeasts into the moonset and stay the fuck out of Kansas. End of story.” 

Karkat feels a stab of bittersweet joy at Dave’s weak smile. It’s a pale imitation of his usual grin, but it’ll do for now. He only wishes things could be that simple. 

“That’s great, Dave, and you've no idea how appealing that idiotic image is, but you can’t stay like this. I don’t want to lose you, and I sure as hell don’t want to rewind back to being best-bros with a sexually repressed, confused dipshit who thinks alcohol is the answer to his problems. We need to take a look at that shit in the lab before we flush this timeline down the load-gaper, there's no way Rose and Terezi have thought of everything. I know they're smarter than we are, but having them work together is like asking to be consumed by an an arrogance supernova. We both know my technique is to fall ass-backwards into the correct button to ectobiologically create all of my friends, not to mention myself, so how hard can it actually be to dial up some Dave-slime? It's worth a fucking try.” 

They both know it’s not that easy, that there’s every chance that they’ll fail miserably, lethally, and Dave will spend his dying moments trying to pinpoint the place in time when he fucked everything up. The labs are dusty and creepy, but they’re private. At the very least, it’ll be as good a place as any to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break, but this one is back up at the top of my priorities list. One more chapter, maybe an epilogue as well (who am I kidding, there's always an epilogue).
> 
> After it's done, it's time to finish off Love in the Time of Juggalos (4-5 chapters left??), and start updating Hello World again.  
> Thanks for bearing with me!


	11. Chapter 11

This time, the nightmares mean business. Dave squirms and struggles against the grip of oily black tentacles, but it’s a futile effort. The thing is an incomprehensible mass of eyes and teeth and dark, slick skin, and when it pulls Dave toward it, he realizes it’s _huge_. The eye closest to him is bigger than a house, bigger than a city, and it’s one of the small ones. The thing itself could eat the planet Jupiter for breakfast. Panic rises in Dave’s chest, his heart hammering so hard he knows the thing must feel it through his fragile ribcage. The deafening roar of his own pulse is the only thing Dave can hear; out in the gulfs of the furthest ring there is no sound. There is only the cold, dark, unforgiving infinity of the void. From nowhere, a message pierces his mind; a thousand clamouring voices that are felt rather than heard.

             

In the lens of the gigantic eye, Dave sees his own broken body fall, his horn shattered into pieces by the force of the impact. The images swirl and change, flitting from battle to battle, but all are awash with blood: his, Rose’s, Karkat’s, Terezi’s. One by one, Dave watches his friends die as claws and blades and tridents sink into their flesh. Soundlessly, he feels himself screaming. Every burning exhalation allows the coils to tighten around him, and his bones begin to crunch under the horrorterror’s grip. As the images flicker and blur and repeat, Dave is reduced to a screaming, writhing avatar of pain. Closing his eyes achieves nothing. Even through his eyelids, the visions burn a fiery afterimage directly into his brain.

    

Dave feels the sickening crack of his ribcage giving way and he wakes, gasping and staring into Karkat’s terrified face.

“What the fuck, Dave?!” Karkat’s voice is high, panicked. “You were screaming like a fucking banshee for five solid minutes! I couldn’t get you to wake up!”

Dave sits up and concentrates on forcing oxygen into his lungs, on slowing his heart rate so that his head will stop feeling like it’s going to explode. After a few minutes of Karkat gently rubbing his back, Dave is able to speak.

“I had a nightmare...I saw all of you die. Because of me.”

Karkat’s arms around him can’t lift Dave’s dread, not this time. Last night had been filled with tears and kisses and whispered assurances, and they’d fallen asleep with their limbs tangled together as if nothing could ever tear them apart. Now, Dave feels numb to the core. There’s a job to be done, a timeline to doom or to save. They get dressed quietly, solemnly, their normal undercurrent of friendly bickering noticeably absent.

\------------------------------------------------

The tunnels leading back to the lab are almost familiar by now, and Dave barely needs Terezi’s chalk arrows to guide him. He and Karkat pause a few times to pass the sleeping form of the Mayor back and forth, and each time he stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. Dave had insisted on leaving with minimal fuss, so after a tearful goodbye to Rose and Kanaya they had gone to break the news to the proprietor of Can Town. Terezi and Vriska were nowhere to be found, and Dave was both sad and relieved that he could skip another farewell session. Dave had felt his stomach clench as they trudged toward the storage bay, the memory of a terrified Mayor fleeing from his nightmare form fresh in his mind. Karkat had squeezed his hand tightly as it started to tremble. He needn't have worried. Unlike the Mayor that Dave encountered in the dreambubbles, their Mayor seemed completely un-phased by the sight of him as a troll, almost comically so. His cheerful wave and the hug he lavished on Dave’s lower body were the same as ever, and Dave hadn’t been able to keep a grin from stealing over his face.

Either the language barrier had proved more problematic than usual, or the Mayor was being deliberately obtuse, because he’d refused to stay behind when they left Can Town. He’d clutched tightly to Dave’s cape until Karkat stopped trying to convince him to stay behind, and had walked as far as his short legs would carry him. Eventually the trek had proven too much and Dave had stooped to catch him as he began to pitch forward mid-step. From then on, he’d been curled up in Dave’s arms or Karkat’s, sleeping peacefully.

As they trudge down into the gloom, Dave wonders if he should say something to Karkat, if this will be the last time he'll get the chance to be alone with him. The Mayor never really counted as a third wheel to their platonic bro-time, but he feels a little squirm of discomfort at the idea of having a serious feelings chat in front of him. This is hard, so hard, all of this uncomfortable distance and terrifying closeness. Just like the rest of his short life, it's not fucking fair. He isn't really sure what he wants to say, or even if he'd be capable of saying anything. He jumps slightly when Karkat clears his throat, the chainsaw-rattle of his vocal cords echoing in the silence.

"I wouldn't forget," is all Karkat says, his eyebrows drawn into a scowl. It takes thirty seconds and another round of rumbling in his throat before he speaks again. 

"If all of this goes globes-up and you have to...merge the timelines...I wouldn't forget this. I wouldn't forget _you_."

That hits Dave like a sucker-punch, almost making him drop the Mayor. He wants to tell Karkat it doesn't work that way, that he'll have another Dave just like him and it'll probably all seem like a crazy-ass dream. That the less Karkat remembers of all of this, the better; because he'll be gone and there'll be no way of bringing him back. He wants to cry because all of this sucks _so bad_. Mostly, he wants to kiss that frown away, to tell him that it's going to be OK. He settles on keeping things simple.

"Thanks, man. I promise I'd haunt the shit out of you." 

Karkat laughs a little, but it doesn't reach his eyes. There's something deep and dark behind them, and Dave wishes he could lift it. He's pretty sure his eyes look the same beneath his shades. Shifting the Mayor to rest over his shoulder, Dave catches Karkat's hand and threads their fingers together. He hears Karkat's breath catch in his throat, hears the sob before Karkat can squash it, and he squeezes his hand gently. This time, a real smile passes between them, and neither mentions the pink sheen over the other's eyes. Even though his arm aches and the Mayor is a heavy little sonofabitch to carry, Dave doesn't let go. They walk the rest of the way in calm, shared silence.

\------------------------------------------------

Dave’s stomach goes into freefall when he gets an eyeful of the banks of machinery lining the lab. Vast arrays of lights and buttons and spinning tape-reels stare back at him, straight out of a low-budget sci-fi movie. They should, according to all of the cinematographic rules, be beeping up a storm, and the fact that they’re just quietly humming away down here doing god knows what is decidedly creepy as fuck. The one that Karkat is prodding at, swearing under his breath as his finger breaches the layers of dust all over it, seems to have output tubes that feed into several large vats. All of them are empty, and Dave speculates that getting the goo flowing is going to be downright impossible. It's just as Rose said; the buttons are labelled in a language that looks half Chinese and half QR-code. If they’re any sort of pictogram, he hopes there’s an easy way to diagram “for transformation goo, insert DNA here”, because they’re both completely out of their depth on this one. 

Karkat is frowning again, rubbing absently at his temples. He turns to face Dave, looking more than a little frustrated, when he puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“This sci-fi bullshit looks like the stuff I used to make all of those stupid wigglers, but that had the decency to have Alternian labels. I can’t read any of this.” 

There’s desperation beneath his usual crabbiness. It’s almost painful to watch as Karkat prods at buttons, swearing at the screen when it refuses to give up anything other than strings of fragmented gibberish. When it’s obvious that he’s going to either break something or start weeping tears of rage (or both), Dave carefully lifts the fist that he’s using to mash the keypad so hard it must be painful. He’s tried his best. 

“Karkat, stop. It’s OK.” It comes out as he intends it to, soft and calm. Nothing like what he’s feeling inside. 

Karkat practically throws himself into a hug, arms clenching around Dave until he starts to shudder at the memory of his nightmare. Still, it’s not enough to make him want to free himself from Karkat’s embrace. Instead, he just strokes his hair, trying not to think about what he’ll have to do next. First, it’ll be...goodbye, then he’ll have to school his former self, and then…nothing? A dreambubble? He doesn’t know. Rose would probably know, and he suddenly regrets not asking her more about it. 

A sniffle from the area beneath his hand interrupts his thoughts, focusing them on the wet patch Karkat is leaving in the centre of his chest. The longer they draw this out, the harder it’ll be to leave. Karkat obviously senses him steeling himself to pull away, because he starts speaking in a tiny, cracking voice. 

“Can we just…stay like this? For a little bit? I’m not…I’m not ready.” 

Dave feels his resolve crumble, replaced with the pure, warm feeling of giving in to the hug. Of giving in to Karkat. He isn't ready either, he'll never be ready for _this_. A few more minutes couldn't hurt, though. If it’s going to be his last chance to hold Karkat in his arms, he might as well make it last. 

“Sure, man. Of course.” 

And so they stay, at least for a while, wrapped up in each other and bathed in the glow of electronics, until Dave feels a tiny hand tugging insistently on his cape.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sick in bed today, so have another chapter :)

Dave’s first thought when he feels The Mayor pulling on his cape is one of irritation; annoyance that the little dude is so oblivious that he can’t see he and Karkat are having a goddamn moment. Sure, it’s probably disorientating to wake up in a lab full of strange equipment, but it should be pretty obvious that they don’t want to be interrupted. When the tugging continues and The Mayor starts making little frustrated sounds, Dave has no choice but to let go of Karkat. 

“Look, buddy, I’ll say goodbye to you in a minute, OK?” 

He assumes that The Mayor is simply feeling left out, but the way he rolls his little eyes and points insistently at the machinery suggests otherwise. Karkat is far better at interpreting Mayor-sign, and realization dawns on his face like the sun coming out from behind dark clouds. 

“Dave, I think he can read language on those things.” 

That makes no goddamn sense to Dave, and he stands by, dumbstruck, as Karkat kneels down and nods along to the movement of The Mayor’s hands. Dave mentally kicks himself for forgetting that, although The Mayor can’t speak, he can still read and he’s a lot smarter than they usually give him credit for. It’s difficult to understand exactly what he’s getting at even at the best of times, but some of the drawings he’s dotted around Can-Town hint at a difficult, traumatic past. Dave can recognise the signs of PTSD all too well, and The Mayor’s hand shakes badly whenever he picks up a piece of red chalk. To be the only surviving Dersite from their entire session, he must be pretty damned resourceful. 

Conversely, Dave feels completely useless as he watches the Mayor poking at the buttons, turning dials and knobs as Karkat mutters instructions. His heart skips a beat when a panel on one of the enormo-computers slides back to reveal what looks like a mini transportalizer-pad. He can feel the hope rising in his chest, dangerous and fragile, but there nonetheless. The same hope shines out through Karkat’s nervous smile when he turns to face him, a hand extended for the vial of hair. Dave has never been so glad that his sister is such a goddamned weirdo; the tube now contains all that remains of his humanity. When he woke up this morning, his hair was fully black. 

No words pass between them as they work, nothing to risk breaking the spell. Whatever The Mayor is doing, it seems to be taking an age, and Dave feels his heart almost explode as the hair disappears in a flash of green light, as the machine starts beeping, as a picture that _has_ to represent a DNA strand appears on the screen. All of this seems to be too good to be true, and Dave can’t quite believe that The Mayor can read the alien language so fluently. It’s more code than language; probably the stuff the damn game is written in, so there’s no way the little guy has seen it before. 

The only explanation he can come up with is that The Mayor seems to be able to read anything they put in front of him. He reads English easily, which is unsurprising since it’s the language of his session, but Dave has also seen him flicking disinterestedly through Karkat’s romance novels, pausing to tug at his sleeve when he needs an element of the labyrinthine plot explained. It would make a weird sort of sense for game constructs to be able to process any kind of information, because some species might communicate with musical farts or waving their dongs around. Dave hates thinking of The Mayor as just a game construct; it reminds him that his friend’s lifespan is probably linked to their game session. Right now, though, they’ve got bigger problems. 

The glug and flow of liquid brings Dave back into the room, where Karkat and The Mayor are high-fiving one another. There’s green goop pouring messily into the nearest vat, the splat of each glob hitting the bottom making him feel nauseous. This shit is just as gross as last time, but at least it hasn’t had a dead troll in it. 

“How sure are you that this is gonna work?” Dave asks, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Karkat shrugs in response. It's not the most reassuring gesture, but he’s smiling a little. 

“I don’t know, really. The Mayor seems pretty sure, but the computer might as well have been in East Alternian for all I can tell about what it was doing. All I know is that your hair went in, and gross green goo came out. Pretty standard for stupid SGRUB machinery. Green goo seems to be the main constituent of the fucking universe.” 

Dave nods, swallowing thickly. His throat seems to have transformed into the Sahara Desert without his permission. The only thing left to do is to test the humanizing properties of their custom-made slime. 

“I guess I just dunk myself in, then. No point in dicking around trying to make up our minds, we both know I’m gonna end up in that gunk.” 

Karkat gives him a withering look, slapping his hand away when he starts pulling his shirt over his head. There’s no sense in getting his clothes all gross again, after all. 

“Are you fucking crazy? Dip one of your feet in to test it before you go full-body slime-diving, you stupid bulgelicker.” 

A laugh slips out of Dave’s mouth, short and harsh, draining away all of the tension in the room. Of course, Karkat’s right. Diving in head-first Dave-style is probably not the smartest idea. Karkat starts laughing as well, both of them caught up with how much of a dumbass Dave is. It feels good. 

“OK man, you’re the boss. I’ll try it the non-stupid way.” 

Karkat grins as Dave kicks off one shoe and rolls up his pant-leg in what he imagines is an alluring manner. Karkat kisses him, a little more passionately than Dave expected, when he gets back to his feet. 

“What was that for, man? You going weak in the knees at the sight of my ankle?” 

“Shut up,” Karkat replies, turning a dusky pink when he realizes that The Mayor is staring at them quizzically. “I’m just going to miss you being a troll, you ass. Whatever happens.” 

Dave kisses him again, sending even more delicious red to Karkat’s cheeks. He tastes very slightly of cherries, undercut with the bitter tang of his saliva. He tastes like Karkat, and it’s fucking wonderful. 

“I’ll miss it too, dude. Human Dave is pretty cool, though.” He runs his tongue across his fangs suggestively, “his teeth are nice and blunt.” 

Karkat’s face is going into nuclear meltdown as Dave takes flight, floating up to where he can dip his foot into the ooze. It’s slimy and gross, but at least it isn’t cold. Dave wiggles his toes, wondering how long he needs to hang here awkwardly with one foot in some slime. Last time the stuff was on him for hours before anything happened, but he was only coated in a thin layer. Being submerged in it should be quicker, right? He hums to himself, arms folded, and waits for a sign that his foot is changing. Nothing is forthcoming. 

“Karkat, nothing’s happening. This is boring as shit.” 

He gets no sympathy from Karkat, who grunts and curls up at the base of the tank with The Mayor. He seems to be reading one of his stupid romance novels, and Dave is tempted to drip slime all over him until he remembers why he has his foot in it in the first place. 

“Karkaaaaaat. I’m booooooored,” He complains, after what feels like forever but is actually only ten minutes. The time aspect is a blessing and a curse sometimes. 

“Jegus fuck, Dave, stop whining. If you’re so bored, why don’t you see if your skin has changed color? I swear to god, you must have been dropped on your head multiple times as a wiggler.” 

_I probably was,_ Dave thinks, but Karkat’s idea is a good one. Pulling his foot out is more difficult than he anticipated, since the goo seems to have turned solid around it. It feels the way quicksand is always described in lame action movies. When he finally frees it, the skin _does_ look a little lighter, even through the layer of ick. Looking closer, he can see a sort of reverse tan-line where the slime stops halfway up his calf. It’s not quite human skin yet, but Dave guesses that’s as good a go-ahead as he’s going to get. 

Karkat looks up when Dave touches down, almost slipping over as he lands gooey-foot first. That earns a trademark Vantas eye-roll, but Karkat’s face lights up when he sees the change in Dave’s skin color. 

“Holy shit, it’s actually working?” 

His eyes are shining, tears filling them for what seems like the hundredth time today. Dave nods, keeping a tight lid on his own emotions. Kissing in front of The Mayor is one thing, crying is quite another, no matter how happy he is. 

“Yup, it seems to be. Time to get naked, I guess.” 

Karkat’s blush is the ultimate reward. Before their relationship changed, that flush of red had made him uncomfortably confused and aroused. Now, it makes him feel like the goddamn king of romance, even when he’s being an unromantic little shit. The way it spreads deliciously to the tops of his ears as Dave tugs his shirt and shades over his head, quickly followed by ditching his pants, is enough to make him decide to keep his boxers on. Going commando on the way home is preferable to showing off his boner to The Mayor. 

“Dude, my eyes are up here,” Dave drawls. 

“STFU, you smarmy motherfucker,” Karkat grumbles in reply. 

“I don’t mind, Karkat. Stare as much as you like,” Dave grins. “Ogle it up, man. Just do me a favor and hold on to the end of my cape. I dunno if I’m gonna be able to get out again on my own.”


	13. Chapter 13

Goosebumps pepper Dave’s skin as he hangs above the surface of the tank, preparing to take the literal plunge. It’s cold in the lab without most of his clothes. He takes a last look at Karkat, holding tightly to the hood of his cape with both hands. The Mayor appears to be gripping Karkat’s thighs for grim death, determined to help him, and it’s so goddamn cute that Dave can’t stifle a snort. Knowing he’s not alone makes him feel a little better about this whole madcap idea, at least.

Immersing himself in the goo feels uncomfortably like being swallowed whole. Dave’s body sinks slowly, inexorably downward, his hands clutching desperately at the fabric of his cloak as he tries to keep his head from slipping under. After all of the frustration and heartbreak of the last few days, drowning in the slime intended to save his life would be the ultimate irony.

“Shit, man. Please don’t let go.”

Panic creeps into his voice without permission, but Karkat knows how fucking serious this is. Instead of mocking him for showing weakness as Bro would have, his tone is soft and reassuring.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Pulling one arm free from the ooze takes effort, but it’s necessary. Unless he gets at least a little on his head and face, Dave faces a future with a troll head and a human body. He gags as he tastes a little of it on his lips. It’s a foul combination of earwax and fish, and Dave almost adds vomit into the mix. If this is what humanity tastes like, it’s a cosmic slap in the face. Returning his hand to its vice-grip on the cape, he wonders how long he should stay in this cesspool.

After a few minutes, the liquid settles and solidifies until it holds Dave firmly in its grip. It’s like being encased in lead: his limbs feel heavy yet completely supported. Dave begins to relax, letting the lukewarm goo cradle him, and he wonders if his troll body is reacting to being up to its neck in slime. Recuperacoons seem vaguely similar to this, from what he’s seen of Karkat’s movies. Dave’s trance is cut short by the feeling of liquid touching the corners of his lips and eyes. His head has started slipping under.

Cold panic washes over Dave as he realizes he’s no longer holding on to the cape. His fingers are numb and useless, like the rest of him, and he must have lost his grip on the slime-coated fabric. Dave’s heart starts to hammer, threatening to burst out of his chest as he gropes weakly for a lifeline that he can’t see or feel. Just as a full-blown panic attack begins to squeeze the air from his lungs, the sensation of being crushed to death fresh in his memory, Dave catches the hem of the cape between two fingers. Working his hand upward, he manages to wrap his fist in the material, twisting it so he can’t accidentally let go again.

He needs to get the fuck out, _now_.

“Karkat!” it comes out much more desperate than intended, but he doesn’t care.

“What’s wrong? Should I pull you out?” Concern and panic fill Karkat’s voice, and he feels the cape go taut.

“Yes, yes, pull me the fuck out! I'm sinking and I can’t fucking breathe!”

Dave retches as he slips deeper, his mouth and nose sucking in foul droplets of goo as he gasps for air. He can’t move his legs, can barely feel them at all, as much as he wants to kick and pull his way out. It’s all he can do to hold on. Dave can hear Karkat cursing as he puts his weight and strength into hauling on the cape, yelling at Dave not to let himself fucking drown after all the shit they’ve been through. Agonizing seconds pass before Dave feels himself shift, feels the goo re-arrange itself as he starts to move upwards.

He almost cries with relief. It takes a full five minutes of pulling before his upper torso is free and he can start to lever his legs out with his shaking arms. Exhausted, Dave flops over the edge of the tank, chest heaving as he fights for air. As graceful as a dead eel, Dave half-slides, half-floats down to earth and lands with a wet slap of fabric and skin. He groans at the pain of the impact, and decides that this spot right here is now officially home sweet home, because he’s never moving again.

\-----------------------------------------------------

Karkat has to throw himself backward to avoid the splatter of transformation-goo that accompanies Dave’s descent to earth. None of it hits him, and he thanks his permanently unlucky stars that he manages to avoid being drenched in human-juice. The last thing they need is to start this cycle of body-swapping fuckery all over again. Not being able to touch Dave is frustrating; his skin and nails have lightened significantly, but he’s shivering in the cold meteor air. Carefully avoiding the slimy end, Karkat drapes the cape over him. He takes Dave’s sleepy grin as thanks, and the vague twitch of his hand as a weak attempt to give a thumbs-up. Leaning in as close as he dares, Karkat examines Dave’s eyes, looking for signs of red in the irises. They’re still fully grey, but the most striking thing about them is the fact that they’re barely there at all. Dave’s pupils are blown wide open, as if he’s just taken a sopor hit. Belatedly, Karkat wonders whether the foul-smelling slime coating Dave is even _safe_.

“Dave?”

Karkat’s query is met with a resounding silence and a confused expression. He tries again, louder.

“Dave! Wake the fuck up!”

It’s frustrating as hell not to be able to give Dave a gentle slap. He's not really awake, but Dave’s eyes slowly focus on Karkat. In other circumstances, the way his face is screwing up with concentration would be hilarious.

“Hmmm? What’st? M’really tired.”

 _Close enough_ , Karkat thinks. Dave doesn’t seem to be pan-damaged, and it’s a huge relief.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. I was just making sure you were still as coherent as you ever are.”

Dave nods, a slow roll of his head that ends with him struggling to pull it upright again. He winces as his horn clangs against the glass of the tank when he leans back against it. That seems to wake him up a little, even if he sounds remarkably similar to when he was drunk.

“Th’ks man. ‘Preciate all th’ help. S’rsly.”

Karkat lowers himself onto a dry patch of floor, uncapchaloguing one of his many cushions to sit on. Sitting like this, he’s close enough to keep an eye on Dave but out of his reach in case he gets handsy. The Mayor settles down at his side, his head nestling comfortably into his lap. He’s asleep almost instantly. Karkat paps him soothingly, moving on autopilot (good Mayor, best friend).

“It’s fine, Dave. I know you’d do the same for me.”

That’s true, but it’s not even a tenth of the whole truth. Karkat knows there’s a hell of a lot he’s leaving unsaid, things like _’I care about you’_ , _’I can’t lose you’_ , and _’you’re the only person I’ve ever met who actually understands me’_. Karkat clamps down hard on any deeper feelings, trying to insulate himself from the inevitable emotional meltdown once Dave’s back in his human body. Given how much of a mess their relationship was in the last time Dave was a human, Karkat can’t bring himself to hope that they’re going to waltz off together into the non-existent sunset.

Karkat stops gazing absently at Dave and actually _looks_ at him when he notices Dave’s head swinging lazily from side to side.

“Nonono, tha s’not it bro, s’not just that. I don’t deserve any of thisshit. Y’r too good.”

He’s totally wasted, completely doped up on whatever anaesthetic was in the slime. Karkat reasons that it must be similar in composition to sopor, presumably to keep the hideous hybrid creatures that are usually manufactured in it from waking prematurely. Dave’s words don’t make a lot of sense, but they’re weirdly complimentary. Karkat gently prods him for more.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I help you, moron?”

That seems to make Dave a little too animated, his hands flailing in an uncoordinated pantomime as he attempts to explain.

“Cause’ve all my bullshit, Kr’kt. All th’ pretending im not desperate to fuckin’ kiss you ‘nd fuck you ‘nd that I don’t fuckin’ love you _so much_. For like. M’nths, dude. Y’r so goddamn nice and hot and you always, _always_ put up w’th myshit and I dunno why.”

Karkat feels his cheeks start to burn as he processes Dave’s mindless rambling, particularly the _I love you so much_ part. He knows Dave is under the influence of god-knows-what, but the addition of _for months_ suggests that it isn’t just directionless babbling. Karkat opens his mouth to question Dave, to reassure him that he’s being an idiot and of course he deserves someone who cares about him. Maybe even someone who _loves him_. Karkat's heartfelt speech is cut off before it can begin by the loud rumble of a snore. Dave has passed out, head leaning on the glass and legs spread comedically wide beneath his cape-blanket.

Rolling his eyes to an audience of zero, Karkat pulls his novel back out of his sylladex and prepares for a long wait.


	14. Chapter 14

Dave wakes with a start, a loud noise pulling him cruelly back to reality. As usual these days, he feels like a corpse. He feels like some hideous creature has burrowed into his head, fucked his brain with a corkscrew penis, and then taken a shit in his mouth for good measure. The sound of Karkat hurling his guts up behind one of the glass vats isn’t helping matters. 

“What the fuck?” he croaks, wondering what, after all of this disgusting bullshit, has turned Karkat’s iron-hard stomach. Dave has seen him merrily consuming what looked like a plate of live worms, so it must have been pretty fucking gross. 

When he’s finished throwing up, Karkat won’t meet Dave’s eyes, won’t even look at him. Tingles of dread fill Dave to the brim as terror grips him. What the fuck has gone wrong now? 

“Karkat! If I’m some kind of disgusting monster then I need to know, OK?” Trying to sound cool has gone out of the window, Dave’s voice is pure desperation. 

“What? No,” Karkat’s confusion would be adorable if the situation was less serious. “You’re fine, nookmunch. Or human, at least. Your fucking horn…it just _fell off_. I cannot take any more, Dave, I swear. If your body does one more horrific thing I am going to lose my shit and we will never find it again.” 

Dave snorts, enjoying the angry flush on Karkat’s face. A good old-fashioned abusive rant is the ultimate Vantas cure-all. Pushing aside his cape and examining his body, Dave breathes the biggest, loudest sigh of relief of his life. His skin is deathly pale and smeared with green, his nails are crusted with dried gunk. It’s gross as fuck but it's the best thing he’s ever seen. 

Ignoring his aching joints and muscles, Dave practically leaps to his feet and sprints toward a red-faced Karkat. 

“What, no, stop! You’re covered in shit, you fucking asshole!!!” Karkat screams and flails at him, but it’s all in vain. 

The tackle-pounce knocks Karkat off his feet, sending him sprawling backwards. His head hits the floor with a ‘thunk’ and a wail of pain, but it’s lost in the sound of Dave’s manic giggling. He’s human, he’s alive, and he’s pinning an apoplectic Karkat to the floor underneath him. He couldn’t be happier. 

“It worked, Karkat! I’m back in my own sweet bod again! You are the fucking best, man!” 

“Fucking woohoo for you, idiot! Now get the fuck off me! You weigh a ton and you’re covered in god-knows what and YOU’RE ONLY WEARING BOXERS YOU ANUS-BRAINED FART-SNIFFER!!!” 

Dave laughs like water gurgling down a drain as he feels Karkat squirming ineffectually against his bear-hug. He grins as he buries his face in Karkat’s neck, feeling his struggles cease as Dave peppers kisses against his soft, vulnerable skin. Karkat smells of sweat and soap, and Dave just…breathes him in. He’s so in love he can practically feel his head is spinning. 

“Thanks, Karkat. I mean it.” He murmurs, so close that Karkat can probably feel the vibrations. Dave wishes Karkat could just tap directly into his brain as well, because talking about feelings is just too fucking difficult. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, now _get off me_. You’re so fucking gross.” 

The words are empty of malice, but Dave grudgingly gives in and slides off and onto the floor. Closing his eyes, he wonders if an adrenaline high is filling his chest with helium, or if it’s simply the joy of being close to Karkat. He doesn’t get long to wonder. Karkat’s retribution for the slime-hug is swift and uncompromising; a cold, wet towel smacks Dave in the stomach. He shrieks loud enough to wake The Mayor, and it’s Karkat’s turn to laugh. He grins evilly as he re-caps his bottle of water. 

“If you ever want me to touch you again, for fuck’s sake clean yourself up.” 

Dave sticks out his tongue as he wipes himself down, shivering in the cold. Ducking behind a vat, he shimmies out of his ruined boxers and quickly gets dressed. It’s too draughty to parade his renewed human hotness in front of Karkat, no matter how tempting it is. He’ll just have to wait. 

\------------------------ 

Karkat mutters a string of curses as he examines the filth caking his sweater and pants. The pants aren’t too bad, he reasons, but the sweater is probably unsalvageable. The stupid, gorgeous, infuriating, piece-of-shit human responsible is unlikely to give a flying fuck right now, but Karkat will make him pay for it later. The sweater might be identical to all of the others he owns, but it’s his goddamn favorite. Of course, Dave emerges fully dressed from behind a tank at the exact moment when Karkat has his shirt off mid-change. Karkat pretends fervently that his face hasn’t turned bright red, that he doesn’t see Strider’s smug little smirk, and shuffles his sweater on in double-quick time. 

Dave walks hand-in-hand with The Mayor as they make their way back home, and Karkat smiles at the well-deserved pride on the little Carapacian’s face. Messages of celebration from Rose and Terezi flood in, setting both of their phones buzzing with sardonic assurances that the timeline is safe. Karkat reads them numbly, wishing that he could banish the unwelcome intrusion. This is his moment, Dave’s moment. Inevitably, given time and space to dwell, Karkat’s mind starts to whirr and click with worry. 

_It was all just troll hormones, none of it meant anything to him. Why would it? Now he's human again, we’ll go back to stacking cans like wigglers and never talk about it again. We’re just friends who fucked a couple of times. That’s all you mean to him, and it’ll have to be enough._

He knows he’s jumping to conclusions, but that doesn’t mean he can stop. Dave hugged him, even kissed his neck, and if Dave was a troll that would mean something. Now that he isn’t, however, Karkat feels lost. Dave isn’t normally touchy-feely but Rose hugs everyone, especially Karkat. He hated it at first, but now it’s almost pleasant. All of this is new territory, and he's stuck in no-man’s-land. 

Karkat’s blood-pusher aches as he watches Dave embracing The Mayor, both of them grinning from ear to ear. The little guy is fighting to stay awake after the long walk, but he looks ecstatic when Dave promises to help make Can Town into the pimpin’est crib in Paradox Space. He wonders when Strider started being so fucking sweet, when it started being physically painful to watch him smile. As a troll, Dave was pitiable as fuck; beautiful and broken and desperately in need. Now, back in his human body, Dave is poised and sure of himself. Karkat isn’t sure if what he’s feeling is pity or not, but Dave clearly doesn’t need anyone to take care of him anymore. At least, not while he’s high on the thrill of his renewed humanity. Watching him high-fiving The Mayor, Karkat suddenly feels uncomfortably surplus to requirements. 

Karkat fidgets, trying to decide whether to stay or to sneak off and avoid the inevitable awkward conversation. The one where he gets his chest kicked in by the force of Dave’s rejection. He’s about to flee when Dave waves goodbye to The Mayor and turns to fix him in the high-beam of that stupid, dorky, rapturous smile. 

“You wanna go hang out?” 

He can’t take it. He has to know. 

“What, as platonic ‘dude-bro’s’? Or are you looking to get your cheap kicks from me again?” It comes out much more spiteful than intended, but Dave doesn’t seem upset by it. Instead of confirming all of Karkat’s worst fears, Dave wraps his arms around him and presses his face into the hair between Karkat’s horns. 

“Just because I’m human, it doesn’t mean I stopped being red for you. And pale, and all of the other ones too. But right now you are so amazing and you literally just saved my life and I am so fucking red for you, man. Like, redder than your sheets after I made a mess all over ‘em. Can’t we just, I dunno, watch a movie and make out a little and tell ourselves it's all gonna be fine? I’m tired and sore and there’s no way I want to see anyone else for, like, at least two days.” 

Karkat breathes, trying to ignore the scent of the residue still clinging to Dave’s hair. He can practically feel his tension bleeding away as he nuzzles deeper into Dave’s shoulder to hide his tears of relief. 

“That sounds fucking perfect. _After_ you take a goddamn shower.” 

Dave laughs, pulling Karkat closer. 

“You got it. Anything for you, princess.” 

Karkat smiles, because anyone who’s ever read a human romance novel knows that they _have_ to end with the princess kissing her handsome prince (if they stoop so low as to include such cliche subject matter, and a surprising number of the ones he borrowed from Rose actually do). He has no problem making do with a knight instead, nor with showing exactly how un-princess-like he can be. By the time Karkat is finished, Dave hasn't a hope of walking back to his room in a straight line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I certainly enjoyed writing this one, so many gross things in one place!
> 
> There will be an epilogue, following up with these two and their first time together with Dave back in possession of his human junk. I may or may not post it as a separate one-shot, rather than a chapter of this. 
> 
> Either way, thank you so much for reading. To everyone who left kudos or comments, you have my eternal love and affection .


End file.
